


Addiction

by Tshilaba



Category: Death Note
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:04:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5254622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tshilaba/pseuds/Tshilaba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Addictions are never healthy. At least, that's what they say. But what if Matt's addiction to a certain blond could turn his life around and ultimately save him from his self-destruction?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“MAIL! WAKE UP YOU USELESS LITTLE FUCKER!”

Yep. That's me. Mail Jeevas, better known as Matt around the town. I'm fifteen years old and more than likely going to hell faster than anyone you've ever met. I'm not only the one who feeds the man and woman I have the extreme misfortune of living with, I've also probably got a longer paper trail than most ex-cons that have been incarcerated for over fifty years. Bet you're wondering how that's even possible for a fifteen-year old. Two words. My parents. They're drug addicts, more than likely addicted to everything that's humanly possible for you to get your hands on in this country and _I'm_ the one that has to provide for it. Of course, I feed my own addiction as well. I'm addicted to nicotine, ecstasy, heroin, cocaine, LSD. You name it, I've more than likely tried it and become addicted to it. I work two full-time jobs on top of going to school. Yet, somehow through it all, I've still managed to stay the third smartest kid in our high school. Even _I'm_ not quite sure how I do it. But I do. Which is probably the only reason why my sorry ass isn't rotting away in jail right now.

“Okay, okay! I'm up, dammit!” I yelled, rolling out of bed and accidentally stepping on Winchester, the family's German Shepard. How we keep the thing healthy is beyond me. “Sorry, boy,” I muttered as I scratched his ears gently while he sent me a half-irritated look. I was the only one who's room he would sleep in for some reason. He refused to sleep anywhere else in the house. I grabbed a change of clothes and made my way to the bathroom to take a shower and start to get ready for school, only to run in to my dad in the hall, stoned as per usual lately. Well, that or so drunk off his ass he was vomiting everywhere. I'm still not sure which is more annoying.

“Don't you cuss at me, boy. I'm still your damn father,” he said angrily, standing in my way.

“Don't call me a useless little fucker then!” I shot back. He did _not_ need to piss me off this early in the morning, but he was already well on his way. “ _I'm_ the one that works to pay the fucking bills around here. _I'm_ the one that puts food on the table. And _I'm_ the one that pays to feed yours and Mom's GODDAMN DRUG HABIT!” After saying that, I felt myself breathing hard. I needed a fucking cigarette. I shoved past him roughly and slammed the bathroom door.

Twenty minutes later, I came downstairs to make  _myself_ breakfast, which consisted of cereal and milk. They could get their own damn breakfast. Not even giving a fuck, I took my breakfast out onto the front porch. I pulled out my pack and lit one, taking a much needed drag. “Fucking hell,” I sighed. I hated being angry. It was more tiring than work was. Somehow though, the bastard knew just how to get under my skin. Luckily, I was able to finish my breakfast and my first cigarette of the day in peace. After taking my dishes back inside and washing and drying them, I grabbed my backpack and made my way to school.

***

Parking my car in the parking lot, I grabbed my bag off of the back seat and started walking to the main building.

“Yo! Matt, what's up, man?”

I glanced back in exasperation over my shoulder to see Troy making his way over to me. Of course. He owed me for the last batch I gave him, and he was no doubt coming for more. “What?”

“You know how you let me off with the rocks last time, bro?” he asked.

I hated when he called me that. I was _not_ his brother. He was simply someone who came to me for drugs. Nothing more, nothing less. And usually, he paid well. Usually. “Yeah, you still owe me for that. This job's not easy, you know. Nor is it cheap. I got people to pay myself.”

“Yeah, but see, Dad's getting laid off from work and--”

“No.” I held up my hand cutting him off mid-sentence. “I don't personally give a fuck about your home life, Troy. I _don't_ need to know. What I need, is the money you owe me. Now, I've already let you off one time, which I shouldn't have done, mind you. I need, no, I _want_ my payment now.”

“I'm broke, dude,” he protested. “But I can pay you some other way.”

“I need the money.”

“I can give you something better,” he said, grinning.

I rolled my eyes. Of course. I knew exactly what he “thought” he could give me. Some random fuck that had probably already been screwed twenty times to hell and back. Right. Like I really wanted that. But, I played along...for the moment. As I always did. “And what could you possibly give me, Troy? I'm the third most intelligent student in this school. If I had you do an assignment for me, I'd do worse on it than if I did it myself. And no, I don't need a good “lay”, either. I'm perfectly fine, thank you. I want my money.” The act was over now. “Get me the fucking money by tomorrow afternoon, or I will hang you from the flagpole with your  _intestines_ .” I hissed angrily. There was a reason some people called me “Mad Matt”. They thought I was crazy. Hell, maybe I was. But it kept people away from me, and it got me paid. That was all I was worried about.

Troy gulped noticeably and nodded, before running inside the doors, just as the bell rang.

I sighed. Another long day at school. At least my teachers had learned by now that when I was tired, it was best to just give me the assignment and  _back the fuck off_ . Not like I needed their explanations on a normal day, either, really. After walking to my locker, I shoved my books inside and grabbed my history book before walking to the social sciences wing. Making my way into class, I slipped to the back of the room and slid into my seat.

“Ah, nice of you to join us, Matt,” Mr. Henderson said, still seated at his desk in the front of the room.

I shrugged and didn't bother to stifle my tired yawn.

“Long night, Matt?” he asked as he stood up and began handing out the assignments.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“Ah, well. You should be happy to hear that today is a free day then.”

What? He  _had_ to be fucking pulling my leg. Mr. Henderson  _never_ gave us free days.

“This assignment, which is to be done outside of class, is due two weeks from now. It is worth half of your final grade for this semester. The other half will be another essay assigned at a later date. I will allow a select few to go to the library and begin working today. Keep in mind that this is the _only_ day I will allow you to work on it,” he said. “After today, the assignment will be completed at home. And, there will be ten bonus points for the first five people that turn it in early.”

No. Fucking. Way. This wasn't a damn  _free day_ . This was a “I'm giving you an assignment to do, and I'm giving you one day to do it in class so you better take advantage of it because otherwise you'll never get it done.” Of all things. I had enough to do. I didn't need a fucking  _essay_ !

“Alright. I will allow five students to go to the library today.”

Fuck. I didn't want to even set foot in the library after that last argument I'd gotten into with the librarian. Excuse me for knowing something that a woman who went to college for over ten years didn't know. Whatever. Past problems with staff aside, I had to get to work on this project. I had to work every night this week. There was no way I'd get it done otherwise. I thrust my hand into the air.

“Ah, Matt, you'll take the initiative this time?”

He was baiting me. I knew it. But I wasn't going to snap. At least, not today. “Yes, sir. I mean, I'll have next to no time to work on it at home because I'm working every night for the next two weeks. I need to get as much done today as possible.” Hell, I even smiled, like the good little fifteen-year old genius I was.

Mr. Henderson's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, almost as if he were trying to see some lie in what I'd told him. Eventually, the look disappeared, and he actually laughed. “Very well. Who else will join Matt in taking the initiative in this class today?”

No one raised their hand. Typical.

In the end, Mr. Henderson simply wrote passes for five people, including myself, and shooed us out of the room.

The second I stepped through the door and into the library, I felt the librarian at the desk glare at me angrily.

I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out childishly at her. Why did I give a fuck if she was still mad at me? It was her own damn fault for not knowing that it was Vivianne Crowely who claimed that the deities in Wicca were merely Jungian archetypes in the subconscious of a Wiccan. Sorry, but I don't exactly back down when I know that I know something. It's just me. And yeah, I'm not Wiccan, myself. Religions are just somewhat interesting to study. Like how the pentagrams that Wiccans and many pagan religions consider important was once a part of the Christian faith as representing the five points of Christ. And yet, nowadays, Christians say that the pentagram is a symbol of Satan.

She snorted and turned around to a cart behind her.

Fuck her. As if I cared. Let's see, back to why I was here. Essay topic, what was it? I pulled my notebook out of my bag and glanced at the assignment. How interesting. Mr. Henderson wanted me to write an essay on the history of a pagan or non-pagan religion. Wonderful. What was this, a religion class now? I sighed, putting my notebook away and slinging my backpack back over my shoulder as I made my way to the religion section. Which, unfortunately for me, was very limited on the resources. He was  _trying_ to fail me, wasn't he? Wait. Why the fuck did I need these books? I probably knew almost as much as an actual practitioner of any one of these religions, pagan and non-pagan alike.

I sighed. Sometimes I really hated this school. I tossed my backpack onto a nearby table, pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper and sat down. Now, what to do it on?

“What is this? Fucking Micmac?!”

My head snapped around at the voice.

There was a rather skinny blond, clad all in black, with a bob cut that, oddly, looked really good on him, standing in the computer programming section.

Rolling my eyes, I got up and walked over. “Looking for something?” I asked, leaning back against the bookshelves behind him.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“How the fuck should I know?” he bristled. “I don't understand half this fucking shit. It's all in some weird language.”

I noticed he crossed himself after he finished speaking. “Catholic?”

“Yeah,” he answered, sending me a sidelong glance.

I nodded dismissively. It wasn't as if I particularly cared, honestly. I still couldn't fathom why I was helping him in the first place anyway. “Right, well, this is computer programming. Most of the language in these books is either binary code or very, very advance programming codes. Why they even have books of this level in a high school I still haven't figured out.”

He was looking at me like a fish out of water. It was honestly sort of funny. I got that look a lot. My vocabulary always went over peoples' heads. I resisted laughing though.

“That still makes no sense, idiot! I may be a genius, but that doesn't mean I know what the crap you're talking about,” he snapped.

I sighed. “Alright, do you have your assignment? I take it you have Mr. Negron, right? His assignments are normally pretty thoroughly explained.”

“Uh, yeah, here.” He bent down and dug through his bag before pulling out a sheet of paper and handing it to me. “I really have no clue about any of this stuff. I feel sort of like an idiot.”

“Don't worry. A lot of people have a hard time understanding it at first,” I explained. I glanced over the paper. “Hmm. So you have to write a paper on the basic programming of a website and create your own on any subject you choose. Do you have a subject yet?”

“Not...really. I was sort of wanting to figure out exactly what the hell I had to do and write the report before I actually picked the subject. That, and I don't know shit about computers.” There was that unconscious crossing again after cursing.

If I let it, that would probably become annoying. That was, if I let myself stay around him longer than to help him; which was highly unlikely.

“Okay, well, if you like, I can help you.”

“You'd do that?”

“Of course,” I answered smoothly. I pushed myself off of the shelves and handed him his paper back as I scanned the shelves. “Now, let's see. I have a pretty extensive knowledge of programming in general. I actually helped Mr. Negron build his laptop from scratch.”

“Really?” he said disbelievingly.

“Yep. Oh, how horrible of me. I've just realized we haven't even been properly introduced. I'm Matt,” I said.

“Mello.”

I nodded. “Alright. Now, as much knowledge as I have, Negron still wants references, to prove you actually did the research. He even makes me do it, can you imagine?” I joked. I pulled three programming books from the shelf. “This should be enough. My stuff's over here, if you want to sit where I was. I was working on a paper myself.”

“Oh? Well, it wouldn't be fair for you to help me but receive nothing in return,” Mello returned evenly. “So, maybe I can help you. What do you have to write an essay on?”

“It's for history,” I said. “I have two weeks to write a paper on a pagan or non-pagan religion.”

The blond pursed his lips in thought for a moment before saying, “Why not write it on Catholicism?”

I tilted my head to the side in curiosity. “Why?”

“Well, there's no way either of us are finishing these papers today. So, I dunno, maybe we could help each other over the next two weeks. You can tell me how to do all that techie stuff, and I can tell you about being Catholic,” he answered.

I laughed; I really couldn't help. “Mello, I hate to break it to you, but there's a pretty good chance I know just as much about your religion as you do. If not more.”

“There's no way in hell you know more than me,” he countered, crossing himself as he did so.

I rolled my eyes. “You wanna make a bet? I know about a lot of things, alright? I proved to little Miss Wicca-fanatic over there,” here I nodded to the librarian, “who specifically made the claim that allowed Wiccans to also claim atheism instead of mono or duo-theism. I know who first created Wicca, Thelema, Setanism, Satanism, Christianity, Buddhism, Judaism, Islam, Muslim, and Shintoism. I know how long they've existed, not only as 'cults' but as fully-fledged religions. I know when they were formed, when they were divided into different branches. You know the pentagram?”

“Yeah, it's a mark of Satan,” Mello said confidently.

“Wrong. It's used by Wiccans as a pentacle. A sacred object, if you will. Originally, it was even used by Christians to signify the five points of Christ. There are two different versions of the pentagram: a good and an evil. The “good” pentagram is one point up, two points down and represents spirit over matter. The “bad” is one point down, two points up and represents matter over spirit. Wiccans are not wholly pagan, nor are they worshipers of Satan. They believe in a balance of good.”

“Look, you know what?” he said. “I get it, alright? You obviously know more than I do. But...wouldn't it make your paper better if you didn't only have facts on a religion, but beliefs straight from the mouth of a practitioner of that religion?”

I blinked. I'd been so sure he was just about to tell me to simply forget helping him, that he'd figure it out himself. But...he didn't. In fact, it seemed as if he was attempting to develop some sort of working relationship with me, and possibly even a friendship. Oh well. He seemed nice enough. “Alright. I'll do my paper on Catholicism. On one condition.”

“And that being?”

“That you help me with it.”

He grinned. “Alright. I suppose I can help you. So long as you'll help me with my paper.”

“Of course.”


	2. Chapter 2

We sat down at the table across from each other. This was going to be a long two hours.

“So, um, who's are we going to start on first?” Mello asked.

I shrugged. “Dunno. I suppose we could work on yours. Of course, we'd need a better computer than these pieces of crap behind us. They're practically dinosaurs.”

The blond laughed. “Well, um, to be entirely honest, I have a laptop, but I'm completely computer illiterate. I have a friend that keeps badgering me to video chat with him, but I won't.”

“Think you could bring it tomorrow? Wait, what class do you have just before lunch?” I asked.

“Trigonometry.”

“Hmm, that means you'd have the second lunch block, same as me,” I said. “What would you say to us working in here during lunch?”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Mello answered. “So, I'm guessing you want me to bring my laptop tomorrow?”

“Yeah, if you can,” I replied. “It'll probably be helpful to be show you while I'm explaining things to you. Now, you'll need a subject. Maybe, I dunno, a poetry site?”

“A site on Catholicism. That's what I want to do,” he answered.

I sighed. “Does everything have to be about that?”

“You're not really the most religious guy, are you?” Mello asked, leaning his elbow on the table and propping his chin against his palm.

“Not really. The only reason I really know so much about them is because they're interesting to study. But honestly, I think if it makes a person happy and hopeful to have a religion and a certain set of beliefs, I don't see any reason why they shouldn't.”

“Anyway, I just think it would be simpler if I did it on Catholicism since we'd already be discussing it. Then it's easier to focus, right?” he said, shrugging.

“True, I suppose,” I said. “Alright, well, down to business I suppose. Negron gave you the entire period, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well, let's get started.” I pulled one of the programming books towards me and set it down in front of him. “Now, the first thing you'll need to learn about is basic HTML code...”

***

Let's just skip all the tedious bickering and say that I learned extremely fast, that teaching him programming was getting the both of us nowhere, and our projects were suffering.

I sighed for what felt like the millionth time that hour and refrained from slamming my head against the table in frustration.

“I'm sorry, okay?” Mello grumbled. “It's not my fault I can't understand your gibberish techie-talk.”

“No, it's not,” I said tiredly. “Which is why I'm not mad. I'm just tired, so it makes me a little irritable. And I'm aggravated at myself for not being able to figure out how the fuck to explain it so that you actually _can_ understand, if only enough to do this damn project.”

“Alright, alright.” Mello sighed. “Can you possibly try again to tell me?”

“Sure. Basically, in its simplest form, HTML is a language that tells a website what to do, and how to format things. It stands for Hyper Text Markup Language. Truthfully, HTML isn't a programming-type language, but it's pretty basic and easy to learn even for beginners, which is more than likely why Negron assigned a site creation as the project part. Now, did all that make sense?”

“A...little,” the blond said. “I mean, I get that it tells it how to format the page, but that doesn't tell me shit.”

My forehead hit the table. This. Was. Un-fucking-believaible. There was no way that someone could be a sophomore in high school and not understand what I just said.

“Come on, I'm not a total idiot, okay?” Mello said, poking me in the head with his pencil. “I get what you're saying, it's just that I'm not getting how it works.”

“Then why didn't you say that?” I groaned.

“Sorry.”

“Whatever. Fine. Forget my irritability. That's what I get for living the life I do. Anyway, where were we? Oh, yeah. Basically... You can work Microsoft Word, right?” I asked, sitting back up and pushing my goggles up onto my head and rubbing my eyes tiredly with the heels of my palms. God, I needed a fucking vacation from life.

“To an...extent,” he said lamely.

I sighed and tried to keep my composure. “Alright. Well, you at least know how you can turn text either bold, underlined, or italicized?”

“Yeah, I can do that much.”

“Well, that's basically what HTML does on web page.”

“Oh. Okay, now I just feel really stupid,” Mello said quietly.

“You're not stupid, Mello,” I sighed. “I can bet you that other than the kids that take Negron's class, there's maybe two or three kids that actually know even a bit about this. Anyway. Now that that's cleared up what--”

The bell interrupted me and for some reason it was more annoying today than any other. It actually gave me a split-second migraine.

I rubbed my temple irritably. I hated my life.

“You okay?” Mello asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine,” I mumbled. “Just that stupid bell giving me a migraine as always.”

He gave me a hard look, almost as if he knew it were something more, and said, “Alright, so you wanna work on this at lunch too?”

“Yeah, I'll meet you here,” I answered as I began packing my things.

“Right. Later,” Mello said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and giving me a small wave before leaving.

Was I really actually letting myself tolerate his presence? This was utterly unbelievable...

***

I made my way back to the library when the lunch bell rang. Two more papers due at the same time as the history; I really hated this place.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” I answered as I set my bag on the table.

“You okay?” Mello asked, looking just a bit concerned.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” I said. I patted the pocket on my jacket. Good, they were still there. Roger'd kill me if he found a pack of my cigarettes lying on school grounds. “You mind if I go run and do something really quick?”

“What?”

“I gotta have a smoke or I'll go crazy in this damn place,” I said, dropping my voice a little.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I usually take one during my lunch break, but since we've both got projects...”

“Mind if I come with you?” he asked.

“Whatever,” I said, shrugging.

He nodded and we made our way up to the roof of the school building, where some of the science classes would often hold gravity experiments off the side of the roof, and I sat down on the edge.

I pulled out a cigarette, lit it and took a long drag, sighing as the nicotine rushed into my system. I let my shoulders slump as I put my elbows on my knees. Even in this hellhole of a school I could find peace in a good dose of nicotine. I heard Mello sit down next to me, and I could see his feet in my peripheral vision as they were dangling over the side.

“You know,” he said slowly. “I used to think smoking was disgusting. I still do, in fact. But, as stressed as I've seen you, I have to admit it has a calming effect for you.”

“You should see what ecstasy does,” I said unthinkingly.

“Oh, so that's why the name Matt sounded familiar,” Mello mumbled, and I could have sworn he was grinning. “You're Mad Matt, the local drug dealer.”

“Yeah...” Okay, maybe I was actually sort of looking forward to finding a friend. Now I knew I'd fucked myself over.

“What?”

“What do you mean 'what'?” I said.

“You act like just because I know you're the 'Mad Matt', that I'm not gonna want to be around you.”

“Well, aren't you? I mean, the only reason _most_ people hang around me is for drugs. I highly doubt you want that, so what use could you have for me after I help you with your project?”

“You can't mean that,” he said.

“Can't mean what?”

“You think that I'm only hanging around you just so I can mooch a good project, don't you? DON'T YOU?!” he practically screeched.

“Well, aren't you?” I said, unfazed. I was used to people acting that way.

“No. Of course not,” Mello insisted, which caused me to drop my cigarette in shock.

It fell onto my hand that was resting in my lap, and I flinched a little with pain before shaking it off.

“Why on earth would I want that?” he asked quietly. “Others might only want that from you, Matt, but I thought that maybe we could be friends. Or... Do you not want that?”

I swallowed hard and occupied myself with another drag on my cigarette. I sighed as I let the smoke back out of my lungs. “To be honest, Mello, I'm not sure if I do, or I don't. I've never had a friend before. I've never let myself close enough to a person to form that kind of a relationship.”

“Well, I guess we're in the same boat then,” Mello sighed.

“Huh?”

“I've never had a friend, either. Nor have I let myself get close enough to be more than just acquaintances. But, I really would like to have a friend. And honestly I can't think of a better person than you to be friends with,” he replied.

“But I'm a druggie. I'm addicted to practically everything under the sun; I drink on the weekends. I'm _not_ a virgin, either. How could you possibly want to be friends someone as fucked up as me?” I found myself mumbling lamely.

“Just because.” And then he grinned.

Honestly? I really loved that grin.

“Just because, huh? No ulterior motives whatsoever? You're not going to try and be friends with me just to convert me, are you? You're not going to try and put me in rehab? Turn me into the police?”

“Yep, just because. Nope, no ulterior motives whatsoever, nor am I going to try and convert you, you're welcome to believe whatever you want; no, I won't try and put you in rehab, and no, I won't turn you into the police. I just wanna be friends, okay? That's all. I think that, considering we're 15, we deserve to at least have one friend. Is that really too much to ask?”

“In this world, everything is too much to ask.”

“Oh, come on. You know what I mean. So, can we?”

“Yeah,” I said, flicking the butt of my cigarette down to the ground. “I think it would be nice.”

“So, friends?”

“Yeah, friends. Now, we need to go work on our projects before we both get so behind that we'll never be able to finish,” I said, standing up.

“Right, right,” Mello laughed, standing up as well and following me back to the library.


	3. Chapter 3

“Okay, since you sort of understand _what_ HTML does, I think it would be a good idea to start laying out what you want the site to say, titles and the like,” I said, folding my arms and leaning against the table. “Any ideas?”

Mello frowned. “Well... Why not combine our projects?” he asked curiously.

“What? Do you mean like you make the site from what I write in my paper?”

“Yeah, I mean, it could work, right? I mean, then it's practically a copy and paste of the information,” he said shrugging.

I frowned. I didn't really know how well Henderson and Negron would take that. “Well, for the time being, let's get to work on the rest of it, and we'll worry about that later, okay?”

“Sure,” Mello agreed. “So, I guess we start working on your report then?”

“I guess so,” I replied.

“Right.” He grinned. “I'd suggest starting with a purely historical view first, and then add the belief system in towards the end.”

“Now, now. Who's paper is this?” I teased, poking his arm playfully.

“Sorry, just saying. It's usually the best way to do reports on religions,” he mumbled.

“I know, I was only messing with you,” I chuckled. “You're pretty easy to ruffle, you know?”

“If you only knew, Matt. Anyway. Historically speaking, you'd be starting with the date the concept of Catholicism was first conceived.”

“Yeah. It was...” Well, shit. I'd actually forgot that. Wasn't this grand?

Mello's head tilted to the side as he looked at me curiously. “You've actually forgotten it, haven't you?” he asked. It wasn't judgmental; he was simply observing a fact. “It actually doesn't truthfully have a  _set_ conception date, Matt. But it is a general belief among Catholics that it was started by Peter around the time of Pentecost. Though, no narrative exists to actually  _prove_ that Peter founded the church in Rome after being consecrated by Jesus.”

I sighed. “Fuck...”

“What?”

“I can't write my paper based on beliefs,” I groaned. “I need concrete facts.”

“Concrete facts, huh? Mattie, with references, even the Bible counts.”

“I know that!” I snapped. “But if there's not even something in the Bible to prove that the Catholic faith was founded by a certain person, than it's not fact. It's fucking speculation, false hope, opinion. Whatever the fuck you want to call it! It's not gonna work. Dammit!” I put my head in my hands. This had about a snowball's chance in hell of working. Henderson was gonna fail me for sure.

Mello sighed. “Look, if I can get a general date, would you cheer up? It's depressing  _me_ to see you like this,” he said gently.

“Mello, it's not just the fact that I have three fucking papers all due by next Friday,” I sighed. “It's the fact that I've gotten about two hours sleep in the past week and I have to work all this week and the next from practically right after school to 2 in the morning. On top of that, I've only had two fucking smokes all day and I'm really just wanting to shove my head through this table. I have a migraine that could probably make this building crumble if it were transformed into some sort of force of nature; and I'm just fucking _tired_. I'm emotionally, physically, and mentally drained, okay? That's all. And none of that shit's gonna change.”

The blond sighed heavily and closed his eyes before swallowing hard. “Matt, maybe we need to talk first.”

“There's nothing to talk about, alright?” I mumbled. There was no way I was telling this boy that I'd barely met about my life. “ _Fuck_!” I hissed.

He'd kicked me under the table. Bastard. “Like hell there isn't something to talk about. It's fucking obvious that you have shit going on in your life that's bothering you. A mentally retarded five-year old could see it. Damn, a fucking _dog_ could see it. I understand we've just started getting to know each other, but seriously. I'm TRYING to be a friend here!” he snapped.

I opened my mouth to say something, but changed my mind and sighed instead. “Mello, you don't get it. From my position, you've got everything. You've got nice clothes, a nice family, people that admire you. And you barely had to work for anything. Me, I've had to work since I was about ten to support my parents, everything I have is because _I_ bought it myself. My car? My fucking '69 Camaro? I bought it from a fucking junkyard and rebuilt it myself. I built my laptop from the ground up when I was 12. I'm the one that pays for the fucking house my family has the displeasure of living in. If I don't work, we lose the house, we lose what little shit we actually _do_ have, and we'll be living on the street. And trust me. If you think I'm bad when I only have two smokes over a six hour period, you never want to meet my parents. And just to keep our place from being condemned, I have to fucking clean up after them. Okay? So, there. That's everything that's bugging me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mello breathed quietly.

I didn't even have the energy to respond, I just folded my arms on the table and put my head on my arms.

“Matt, I--” He took a breath. “Matt, I didn't realize you went through so much. I...I'm sorry. But, if it makes you feel better, my life's not that peachy either.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It's true. You say I have everything. Maybe I do. Or maybe, I don't have anything. I have the material things, sure. But my family's not as close as you think we are. Add to that I have absolutely no freedom. Hell, I don't even have a fucking cellphone,” he snorted. “I have to tell my parents when I'm just going outside to sit in the grass and think. I'd give just about anything to have my parents be a little less suffocating...”

I sat up and looked at him, studying his face. I chewed my bottom lip as I thought. He was being sincere; I could tell that simply by the emotions rolling in his eyes. But... “Mello... Would you like to come over this afternoon? My parents are going to be out and I don't have to go to work until around six.”

“Well, my mom's not going to be home until about seven,” he said thoughtfully. “And my dad works until midnight, so... What they won't know won't hurt them, right?”

“Definitely,” I said.

He smiled. “By the way, my nickname's Mello. My real name is Mihael.”

“Heh, my real name's Mail. At least yours sounds somewhat normal.”

“Mile? As in like miles on a highway?” he asked in confusion. “I thought that was a British name usually?”

“No, not like that,” I said, shaking my head. “It's pronounced 'mile' but it's spelled 'M-A-I-L' like a letter in the mail.” I looked away; I hated my name. But then, that's what you get when your parents are stoned to oblivion when they decide to name their son.

“I like it,” Mello said. “It fits you; and it's unique. Far better than dumb old Mihael.”

“Pssh, whatever,” I laughed. “Anyway, our papers aren't getting done.”

“I know. But we do have two weeks.”

“True. Mello, can I ask you a personal question?” I said.

“Go for it.”

“I...What's your view on homosexuality?”

“My view on it? Hell, two guys getting it on? Are you fucking crazy? That's sick.”

“I'm not talking the religious bullshit that's been spoon-fed to you all your life,” I said. “I mean _your_ opinion. Not your god's, not your religion's, not your parents'. Your opinion, Mello. That's what I'm asking for.”

“Opinions are heavily based on upbringing, Matt,” he said bluntly. “But you want my honest opinion, having absolutely nothing to do with morality or sin?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. I'm not physically or emotionally attracted to any guy, at least, not yet I haven't been. So, I don't know from experience. But, when I think of love I think of something pure, so I really don't see how even love between two people of the same gender could be wrong. Gross, when I think about it, but then there are a lot of things that I find gross that I don't see as wrong. Hell, sex in general seems weird. That doesn't mean I think that it's wrong.”

“So, you're saying that if you had a friend who admitted he or she was gay, you wouldn't stop being friends with them?” I asked.

“You're not trying to say you're gay are you?” he laughed. “But seriously, I'm friends with someone because of their personality. Personality doesn't change just because you like someone romantically. So no. I wouldn't stop being friends because of that. And besides, I only have one friend anyway. And _he's_ a social recluse that has only lost his virginity due to trying to support his parents. Hell, he might even be asexual, for all I know. But that doesn't matter to me at all. Like I told you, you're welcome to believe whatever the hell you want to.”

“Okay, let's stop talking about this.” For some reason, discussing my past and what I had to do just to stay alive with him was...hard. It made me feel weird.

“Fine with me,” Mello said, yawning.

“Thanks, so--”

“Matt, bro, glad I found you!”

I closed my eyes, biting my lip so as not to curse the bastard to whatever pit of inferno or hell he came from. Of all times the bastard could pick...

Mello must have seen me twitch because I heard him say, “What do _you_ want, Troy? In case you haven't noticed, we're busy here.”

“Oh, didn't know the Jesus Freak was a secret addict, too.”

“OH FUCK NO!” the blond snarled, vaulting over the table and slamming Troy to the ground and started pounding the shit out of him.

Unfortunately, Troy was about five times bigger than Mello and managed to easily slam the blond back against the wall. “Don't fuck with me, you little fag,” Troy said.

Okay, now this was way too much and something was going to go bad (if it hadn't already) if I didn't stop them soon. “Hey! Genius and Shit for Brains,” I snapped. “Stop fighting right now, or I'll fucking separate you myself.”

Troy let go of Mello, but the blond just had to handle things on his own and made to shove Troy away again.

“No.” I grabbed his wrist and shot him a warning look.

Surprisingly, his eyes softened a little and he sighed. “Fine. I want him gone though.”

I let go of his wrist and waited until he'd sat back down. “First off, Troy,” I said. “Don't mess with Mello, because the next time you do, I won't stop him. Second, what the _fuck_ do you even want?”

“Didn't you want your money, bro?”

I sighed. “For the last time, Troy, I am NOT your brother. Now, just give me the fucking money and get out of my sight, or I'll let Mello gut you so that I don't have to get my hands dirty.”

“Hey, who said I'd do your dirty work?” Mello said irritably.

“Don't you already want to gut him?” I asked boredly.

“True.” The blond shrugged. “Whatever; I still want him gone. He's annoying.”

I rolled my eyes and held my hand out to Troy. “Pay up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled and dropped a bunch of bills in my hand before turning to bolt.

I didn't even have to look to know that he was trying to gyp me.“Oh, _hell_ no,” I growled. “Get back here; this isn't even half of what you owe me.”

Troy was fast, but, apparently, Mello was faster. His hand shot out and snatched Troy back by his hair, tugging harshly at the auburn locks. “Give him the money, or I'll gut you right here,” the blond hissed, a deadly look on his face.

“Y-you wouldn't.”

“Fucking _try me_.”

“I-I-I I don't h-have it. I'm sorry. Really! And I can't get it. Everyone's broke, I swear!” Troy stammered, shaking in fear.

This was just too much stress. I was just so fucking tired of lies and broken promises. “Fuck this,” I said. “Let him go, Mello. I don't even want his money anymore.”

“But...” Mello looked at me in confusion.

I shook my head. I honestly didn't want the money anymore. I just wanted to be left alone. By everybody. Except possibly Mello. I grabbed my things, swinging my bag over my shoulder. “I'll see you in Lit.,” I said and, without waiting for an answer, I brushed passed the blond.


	4. Chapter 4

I was already running late when I ran into Mello in the hall.

“Good,” he said, sounding relieved. “I've been looking for you. We need to talk.”

“I told you,” I sighed softly as he fell into step with me, “I'd see you in Lit.”

“Not my point,” the blond countered plainly.

“Then what is?”

“Why'd you let that jerk off the hook?” Mello asked.

“I just--” I shook my head violently. “I'm tired of all the crap, okay? I'm tired of the lies and the broken promises. I show people a small bit of kindness and they walk over me.”

The bell rang, cutting our conversation short.

I dropped into my seat in the back and heard him slide into the seat next to me.

“Alright, class,” Mrs. Roland said. “We're going to try something different today.”

No more essays. Please, I don't think I could--

“We'll be doing an essay today.”

_THUMP!_

“Oh, Jesus,” Mello grumbled under his breath beside me.

“Oh, come on,” Mrs. Roland said. “It's not that bad. These will be partner essays.”

Partner essays? I picked my head up just enough to set my chin on the top of my desk.

Mello raised his hand.

“Yes, Mello?”

“Can we pick our partners?”

“Yes. How much fun would it be otherwise?” Mrs. Roland said, smiling. “Now, pick your partners while I pass out the topics. It should be three pages long and...”

I let her voice fade into the background and glanced at Mello.

“You wanna be my partner?” he asked, grinning.

“Sure.”

Our given topic was Shakespeare.

Mello got up and grabbed a book off of the shelf before sitting down and starting to jot down notes.  
“I can help,” I muttered.

“Nah, just take a nap for a few minutes, Mattie,” he said, waving it off.

“Hmm...” A nap _did_ sound nice right about then. I folded my arms and rested my head on them. It wouldn't hurt to get a few minutes of sleep.

***

“...Lizard's leg and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful...”

“Macbeth?” I mumbled sleepily.

“Wha? Oh, yeah,” Mello muttered.

Why the fuck was he reciting the Witches' song? Though it was odd how the blond's unconscious recitations of Macbeth woke me, yet the rest of the class was practically a low roar. Ah, well.

I propped myself up on my elbow. “How long was I asleep?” I asked, yawning.

“Long enough for me to take all of the notes for our essay,” he chuckled cryptically.

“Is that,” yawn, “good or bad?”

Mello laughed. “I guess that depends. But there's about half an hour left in class.”

“So...you let me sleep for an hour and a half while _you_ wrote our essay?”

“Nah,” he answered, grinning. “It only took me forty-five minutes to take notes and write it. I've been proofreading it.”

“But if you wrote it that makes it your essay, though,” I found myself complaining.

Mello rolled his eyes. “Someone wasn't paying much attention,” he teased. “We have to read it in front of the class as well as acting out a small part of one of the author's works.”

“That's why you were reciting Macbeth?”

“Yep.”

“I'm gonna regret napping while you wrote the damn thing, aren't?” I sighed.

“More than likely.”

I groaned. “Mello...”

“I'm kidding,” the blond answered, chuckling. “And you said I was easy to ruffle.”

I glared at him. “Shut up.”

He rolled his eyes. “C'mon, you know I'm just messing with you. Lighten up. Please?”

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. “I was right. You're way to easy to ruffle, and you get offended and hurt way to easily.”

“Whatever.”

“Class!” Mrs. Roland called. “I have a homework assignment for you.”

Wonderful. Absolutely marvelous. Just what I needed. More work.

“I want you to go home tonight and memorize the excerpt you have chosen for your papers.”

Thank God. At least that was something that wouldn't require much effort on my part.

“Oh, and Matt?”

I jumped when I realized she was standing next to my desk. “Yes, ma'am?”

“You should be thankful that Mello let you rest while he worked on the essay, you know,” she said. I would have thought she was mad, except for the smile on her face. “That's a good friend. Remember that.” She turned around and went back to her desk at the front of the class.

“Well, that was close,” Mello said quietly.

“You're telling me.”

“So, now what?” he asked as he started putting his things away in his bag.

“Dunno,” I replied, packing my stuff away as well. “We could...talk, I guess.”

“But you don't want to.”

“Not really,” I admitted. “I'd much rather curl up somewhere soft and go to sleep.”

“Of course,” the blond snorted. “Maybe I shouldn't come over. Then you can sleep before you have to go to work.”

“No. If I take a nap when I get home, I won't wake up in time and I'll be late for work,” I sighed.

“Can't you call in sick?”

“If I call in sick again, they'll fire me. I've already called in sick too much this month. My boss said if it happens again before the end of the month, I might as well not even come back,” I said.

“But it's only the third week of the month,” Mello said.

“Yeah. That doesn't change the fact that I've already used up my sick days for this month. That's what being an addict does to you, you know.”

The blond looked away. “I know that, but still...” he mumbled.

That was almost comforting. He was worried about me. “Hey, don't worry,” I assured him. “I'll be fine, okay?”

“I don't know that for sure.”

I opened my mouth to say something...only to be interrupted by the bell. That was the second time today that stupid thing had interrupted me.

“Well, let's go,” he said, getting up and walking out the class.

***

Ironically, we happened to be parked right next to each other. I couldn't ignore it anymore. “Okay, now how the fuck have we not noticed each other all this time? I mean come on, it's the middle of fucking October. We park right next to each other, we have the same lunch block and the same literature class,” I said.

Mello shrugged. “I guess we were just too wrapped up in our own lives to really care,” he responded lightly.

“Either that, or we're fucking blind,” I said.

“Well, could be that too,” the blond sighed as he strapped his bag to his motorcycle. “Now, are we just gonna stand around and talk, or are we going to do something?”

“Well, if you still wanna go to my house, I can lead the way,” I said.

He shrugged. “Whatever.”

***

Not twenty minutes later, we were lounged in my room, staring at the ceiling.

“Isn't there anything to do?” Mello groaned.

“Nope.”

“Then why the fuck did you invite me over?” he snapped.

Why  _did_ I invite him over, anyway? It wasn't like we could really work on either project. I had a ton of shit I had to do, that honestly couldn't be done with a guest around. So why'd I do it?

“Well?”

“Shit, I don't know,” I sighed. “Why are you complaining?”

“Jesus Christ...”

I rolled my eyes.

Winchester made his way into the room.

“Hey, boy, where've you been?” I said, scratching his ears as he came up to us.

“Who's that?” Mello asked.

“Winchester. He's our dog. He only sleeps in my room. Guess he wanted to meet you,” I said.

Winchester put his nose right in the blond's face, sniffing, before he gave him a big, wet kiss.

“Fuck!” Mello cursed, pushing the dog back as he scrubbed his face.

I laughed. “He likes you, Mello!” I snickered.

“Who says I like _him_?” the blond grumbled.

Winchester pointedly lay down across Mello's legs.

“Well, looks like he doesn't care whether you like him or not, coz he says he's staying,” I said, still chuckling.

Mello rolled his eyes, grumbling about idiotic things in his life, but scratched the dog's ears gently. “So, this is your life?” he asked after a few minutes.

“Yeah.”

“Yanno, you may as well be living alone. It's just about the same,” he said. He wasn't looking at me; instead, he seemed intensely focused on petting Winchester, staring at the dog's front paws.

“Yeah, as a single parent with two mentally retarded kids, that's about what it boils down to,” I said.

“They're addicts, Matt. I would venture to say that they just _can't_ control themselves sometimes. They need help,” he mumbled.

“Yeah? And how the hell would I help them?”

“You can't if you're still addicted yourself,” he said.

Winchester whined softly.

“And you can't break your addiction without help. What all are you even addicted to?” he asked quietly.

“Cocaine ecstasy, heroin and of course, nicotine,” I said. “Oh, and I drink every so often, but I doubt it's enough to count as an addiction.”

“You might still experience withdrawal if you stop.”

“Who said anything about me stopping any of that?” I countered.

“Matt, think about it.” He was pleading with me now, the desperation in his voice was apparent enough. “You're gonna either work yourself into the grave, or OD. I'd hate to see that happen.”

“Yeah, well you're the only one that even cares,” I said.

“Isn't that enough? To have even have one person care about you?” he whispered.

I blinked. Maybe...just maybe, that was enough. “We'll see, okay, Mello? I can't do it now; it's not physically possible.”

“As long as you promise that you'll try to be off of all of it by the end of the school year,” he insisted. “As long as you promise that, I won't pester you.”

“Alright. I'll try,” I said.

“Good. Now, why not let me help you with your other two essays?”

“Mello, I'm perfectly capable of doing them on my own,” I protested.

“Or,” he went on as if he hadn't even heard me. “I can work on the essays while you take a nap and I'll wake you up when you need to get ready for work.”

“Seriously, Mello. Stop, okay? I can do my work. Honestly,” I said.

“But there's got to be _something_ I can do to help,” he whined.

I rolled my eyes, sighing. “Can you keep Winchester company then? He gets annoying when he's bored, and I'll need to be able to concentrate.”

“Right,” the blond replied.

For some reason, I got the feeling that he didn't believe me that playing with Winchester was helping me. In truth, I hadn't asked him to stay for that at all. As much as I hated to admit it to myself, I had a sneaking suspicion that I was slowly becoming addicted to not only Mello's personality, but to the blond himself. If I was entirely honest with myself(not that I ever was), I would say that it shocked me, if only a little...


	5. Chapter 5

“Hey, Matt.”

I felt someone shake my shoulder and I opened my eyes irritably. “What the hell--”

“It's, like, five-fifteen, Matt, I didn't know how long it would take you to get ready. Figured I should wake you now so that you're not late,” Mello said, shrugging.

Winchester stood patiently by the blond's side, tail wagging slowly.

“I fell asleep. Shit.” I pushed past him and grabbed a change of clothes before heading for the bathroom. “Can you feed Winchester?” I called back over my shoulder. “I won't be back until after two.”

“Yeah, sure,” Mello answered. “Come on, boy, show me where you food is.”

I chuckled. The boy had to be crazy. But, Winchester was a pretty smart dog, so I knew it would work out okay. With Winchester taken care of, I busied myself with getting ready for work.

***

“So, are you gonna be alright at work?” Mello asked as I locked the door behind us before I walked down the steps.

“Duh, of course. You worry too much, you know that?” I said.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “So, I'll see you in the morning?”

“Yeah, sure,” I mumbled. “Later.”  
“Later.”

***

Dammit, I really hated overtime. Five am. “Maybe I should just give it up. Before I work myself in the grave. Whatcha think, Winchester?” I asked him as I came in the house.

Winchester whined.

“It's okay, boy. I'll be fine. C'mon, let's go to bed.”

Of course, I couldn't sleep that night, regardless that I was dead tired.

Winchester had slipped up onto my bed and was laying beside me, nosing my arm gently.

“I know, boy. I know.” I sat up and grabbed my pack of cigarettes, pulling one out and lighting it. I took a drag as I scratched Winchester's ears gently. “Something's gotta give...”

***

I was sitting on the trunk of my car when Mello pulled up.

“Hey,” he said after he'd pulled his helmet off. “How was your morning?”

“You can put your helmet in the passenger seat that way you don't have to worry about it,” I said, tossing him the keys. “But don't forget to lock it back.”

“Matt...” He caught the keys easily in his right hand. “You didn't manage to get any sleep.”

“No.”

He sighed and unlocked the passenger door, putting his helmet and jacket on the seat before locking the door back. “Where do you work?”

“The game store down the street,” I replied.

“Oh. Yeah, I heard the guy that runs that place is a jerk,” the blond said, hefting his messenger bag over his shoulder.

“You have no idea,” I sighed, getting off of my car. I took my keys and pocketed them when he handed them to me. “You bring your laptop?” I asked as I swung my backpack over my right shoulder.

“Yep.” He patted his messenger bag before picking up his own backpack. “I also asked my mom this morning and she said that I could come over and work on the project whenever's good for you so long as I tell her before I do.”

I nodded. “Well, you're gonna be on your own with that in the afternoons until the weekend, I'm afraid. I have to be at work right after school from today until Thursday.”

“Okay,” Mello replied, falling into step with me as I started walking towards the school. “You want me to take care of Winchester then? Ya know, feed him and play with him a few minutes each day?”

“Am I the only one who suddenly feels like we've been friends for years?” I asked.

The blond shrugged. “Maybe that's just what having a good friend feels like, regardless of how long you've known them,” he said.

We'd made our way inside and up to my locker, where we stopped.

“So, I'll see you at lunch?” he asked.

“Definitely.”

Mello grinned before making his way towards his locker and then Negron's class.

The first bell hadn't rung yet, so I put my things into my locker and took out my history text book and my notebook before shutting the locker and making my way to Henderson's class.

“Early today, aren't we, Mr. Jeevas?”

I blinked. He only called me “Mr. Jeevas” when I'd done something wrong. Since was was being early against the rules?

“How's the essay coming, Mail?” he went on.

“Actually, Mr. Henderson, I had a question about that.”

“Yes?”

“Well, you see, I have a friend who's working on a project for Mr. Negron and we were wondering if we could...combine our projects, in a sense. That way, we could do the research together,” I explained.

Henderson's brow furrowed in thought. “Well, I don't see why not,” he said after a few minutes. “Just make sure you clear it with Mr. Negron as well.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

***

“I asked him and he said yes, but I have to check with Negron as well,” I said as I dropped my things onto the bench.

“Really?” Mello was sitting cross-legged on the table top, seemingly staring off into space. He grinned suddenly, looking at me. “Well, Negron says it's fine.”

“Cool.” I sat down next to him, pulling my right knee near my chest, foot resting on the table, and set my elbow on it. “So, you wanna eat first or just get straight to work?”

“I'll get us something to eat. Be right back,” he said, getting up.

“Okay.” I yawned and looked up at the tree we were sitting under.

The leaves were fully turned, in a great range of red, orange, brown and yellow, and falling slowly.

I smiled slowly. It reminded me of the fall the family had spent at grandmother's when I was 9. Before my parents fell into the underworld and I was dragged in after them.

“Mattie, are you okay?” Mello's voice snapped me out of the memory.

“Wha? Oh, sorry. I was just remembering...something.”

“Hey, don't apologize,” the blond said gently, setting the tray down in between us on the table. “It's alright. You wanna tell me what it was?”  
“Sure,” I said, shocking him slightly, and myself.

“O-okay,” he said. “I'm listening.”  
“I told you I had to start working when I was ten,” I started. “But before that my life, my childhood, was actually enjoyable. Of course, that all went downhill when Grandma died just after my 10th birthday. It apparently sent my parents off the deep end; they started doing drugs and just...” I had to stop and take a shuddering breath. “I miss that time when Grandma was alive and we were a happy family. And the leaves reminded me of that time. I just...Hell, I don't know. I miss being nine.”

Mello bit his lip; he was thinking, trying to find the best way to say what he wanted to, or even that he felt needed to be said. But apparently, he couldn't find it because he sighed and said, “I'm really sorry, Matt. But, I honestly don't know what to say to that.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled. “It doesn't matter. 'Sides, if I was still nine, I wouldn't have met you. I might have enjoyed being nine years old because I could actually be a kid then, but I didn't have a friend like I do now.”

“That's just like you, you know,” the blond grumbled good-naturedly. “I try to make you feel better and you turn it around on me.”

“Pfft, it's my way of forgetting my own problems, I guess,” I said, shrugging.

“Guess so,” Mello said. “Pick what you want, Matt.”

I glanced at the food.

A grilled cheese sandwich and chicken noodle soup. Did they think we were sick? Christ.

“You know, Mel,” I said. “I'm not really that hungry, why don't we just share it?”

He shrugged. “Fine with me.” He broke off half the sandwich and handed it to me. “Now, I got the general date that you needed, Mattie. I asked my mom last night; she seemed kinda...I dunno, nonplussed that I didn't know it.” Another shrug. “Not like I really care. But, I jotted it down in my notebook for Negorn's project, as well as a few other interesting facts. There's not many, but...”

“You tried and that's all that matters, Mel,” I said, nibbling my half of the sandwich.

“Well, yeah, but still. I'm not really proving very helpful; makes me feel useless.”

I laughed and gave him a gentle, playful shove. “C'mon, you're not useless. You're very helpful.”

“Prove it,” Mello challenged.

“Hmm, well, lesse, you got the general date. You're practically caring for Winchester for me. What else?” I pretended to think for a moment, but I knew exactly wanted to say because I meant every word of it. “You've given me happiness in this world, a reason to smile even in the darkest times, and a reason to not just waste away into non-existence, but to actually try to better myself.”

The blond ducked his head quickly and looked away, letting his hair obscure his face.

I couldn't believe it; I'd actually managed to embarrass him. “Mel...”

“You...you can't actually mean that...”

“I can and I do,” I said. “Hell, you may even be my best friend in time. I _care_ about you, okay? Which is hard to believe, I know. I haven't cared for anyone since my Grandma died, after all. Well, I care about Winchester, but I don't really think a dog counts.”

Mello turned back to face me and I could see the emotions practically overflowing in his eyes. Before I knew what was happening, he'd thrown his arms around my neck, hugging me tight, and buried his face against my shoulder. “You don't realize how much that means to me,” he whispered.

“Maybe I will in time,” I answered, putting my arms around him awkwardly because for one, I wasn't used to physical contact (to be honest, I wasn't overly fond of it either) and I was trying not to knock our food onto the things for our project.

“Yeah, maybe.” He pulled back and smiled. “But thank you. It really means a lot to hear someone say that. Especially directed _to_ me.”

“Well, you're welcome.”

Why the hell were we so damn focused on our friendship instead of our projects?


	6. Chapter 6

We worked together for the remainder of lunch, jotting down notes for both projects. When the bell rang, we were somewhat well started on both papers.

“So, how are you coming with your other two essays?” Mello asked as we packed our bags up.

“I've got the notes done for both of them; I still need to work on outlines,” I said. I'd need to work on them soon, possibly lunch the next day.

“Well, that's good. So, I guess I'll see you in Lit, huh?”

I nodded.

***

Over the next few days, we'd meet up outside school in the mornings, walk to our lockers and then our first classes and meet up again at lunch. Our projects made progress, but so did our friendship. We became closer each day, to the point where we ended up as we were Friday at lunch.

I heard a scream of “Mattie!” before I hit the wall as someone glomped me. Mello literally tackled me into the wall when he hugged me.

“Well, someone's hyper today,” I laughed.

“Yep.” He stuck his tongue out at me as he released me. “And I'm happy to see you, is that a crime?”

“Did I ever say it was?”

The blond grinned. “Even if it was, it wouldn't change anything. I'm always happy to see my best friend.”

“Same here,” I chuckled. “So, are we gonna get lunch today, or did you bring something?”

He held up a lunch bag. “You up to tuna salad?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes. “You know I'm not picky,” I laughed, elbowing him playfully in the side.

“Yeah, never hurts to ask though.”

“True, true.”

We sat at our usual table. Mello was laying on his back with his head near my right leg, eating his sandwich, while I sat on the bench leaning back against the table watching the leaves fall as I ate.

“Mello?”

“Yeah, what is it, Matt?” he asked.

“Is it, I dunno, weird that we're so close?”

“Huh? Why would it be weird? I've seen girls who are best friends that are closer than we are. Why would it be weird for us?” he replied.

“But we're guys, Mel.”

Mello groaned and sat up, looking at me. “Matt, why the hell does it matter what our fucking gender is? We're best friends. If somebody doesn't like how close we are then they can just go fuck themselves because I don't care what they think, and you shouldn't either. Okay?”

“Okay. I think that's the best idea I've heard in a while,” I said.

“That's good, now finish your damn tuna salad,” he grumbled, crossing himself.

“I wish you would stop that,” I sighed, taking a bite of my sandwich. “I know it's more than likely unconscious, but it's getting kinda annoying.”

“Eh, I'll try. No promises though,” he replied.

“That's all I ask.”

We finished eating in silence before we pulled out our papers to begin working.

“So, wait,” Mello said suddenly, causing me to stop with my notebook open on my lap and look up at him in confusion.

“What is it?” I asked curiously.

“You don't work tonight, do you?”

“No. I've told you that though.”

“I know that,” Mello said. “But why don't we work on it tonight; wouldn't that be easier?”

“Define 'easier', Mel,” I said.

“I could see if I could spend the night tonight and we could work on the projects as long as we need to and sleep in tomorrow.”

“No. Just no, okay?” I said. Before he could protest, I went on, “I'm not risking putting you around my parents, alright? It's too...” I shook my head. “I'm not doing it, alright? Besides, I highly doubt your parents would go for it either.”

Mello sighed. “True, but... I dunno, I just wanted to make it easier...”

“Look, you can come over this afternoon, as long as you clear it with your mom first, until about six or seven, alright? They won't be home until after eight,” I said.

The blond nodded just as the bell rang. “That sounds good to me.”

***

That afternoon, it was just the three of us in the house; well, two of us and Winchester. Mello's mom had agreed to let him come over, so he was laying on my bed working on organizing his notes into an outline, while Winchester was laying on the floor by me as I tried to sort through all my notes.

“You have three essays, right?” Mello asked.

“Yep. History, French, and German.”

“How the hell are you taking two foreign languages?”

I shrugged. “Just what they gave me, I suppose.”

“Stupid school,” the blond grumbled, rolling his eyes and going back to his notes. “How are you coming though?”

“Not so good,” I sighed. “I think I'm missing some of my notes. I can't find the ones I need for my French paper.”

“Uh-oh. Do you remember where they were last?”

“No. I thought they were in my notebook, but I can't find them,” I said.

“Give me your notebook. I'll look for them.”

“Alright.” I handed him the notebook.

He rifled through it for a few minutes, shuffling through all my classwork and test papers. “Aha! Here you go. They were behind your ch. 7 test, Matt,” he said, handing me the papers and then the notebook.

I laughed. “Well, well. I can't believe I didn't notice that.”

“Maybe you should take a nap,” Mello offered.

“Nah, I'll be fine. Besides, I can sleep tomorrow.” I smiled slightly. “You're always worrying about me.”

“I'm sorry? Jeez, but seriously, I can't help but worry about you, you know. It's something that goes along with being friends,” he said irritably.

“I'm picking at you, Mels,” I said, poking his arm. “I just wish you wouldn't worry so much.”

He shrugged. “Can't help it.”

“You'd worry less if I stopped my addictions though, wouldn't you?” I said quietly.

“Yeah. That doesn't mean I'm gonna force you though.” He sighed and looked me in the eyes. “I just think it would be for the best. The best for your health, mental and physical.”

“I know,” I said. “And I'm gonna try, alright? Now, are you good with French? Coz I need some help here.”

Mello laughed quietly. “What am I gonna do with you, Mattie?” he asked as he ruffled my hair, causing me to chuckle. “Let me see what you've gotta do.”

***

“I wish you could come have dinner at my house some night,” Mello said as he went to leave.

We were standing on my front porch and Winchester was sitting patiently on the step beside me.

“Yeah, maybe one day, okay?” I said.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and pigs will fly. Eh, whatever. It'll be fine. I'll see you Monday morning, alright?”

“Yeah. Monday morning. I'll be waiting.”

“You're always waiting for me,” he chuckled. “Like a loyal little puppy.” He gave me a quick hug. “Later, Matt,” he said before heading towards his bike.

“Later,” I called. I waited until he'd driven off around the corner before I looked down at Winchester. “Well, it's about seven. How 'bout we make us some dinner? How's that sound, boy?”

“Arf!”

I smiled and ruffled his ears. “C'mon,” I said, waiting until he'd made his way inside before I shut the door.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

The weekend was passing far too slowly for my liking. It was Saturday afternoon, the house was empty aside from Winchester and myself (I had no clue where my parents were, and, though the majority of me couldn't give a fuck, a small part of me was actually sort of worried about them.), and for once since I was nine, I'd actually had a good night's sleep, shockingly enough. It was...odd, for one.

Winchester was laying halfway across my stomach, as we were both laying on the floor, and half asleep as I was myself.

I frowned slightly. I didn't remember my parents coming home at all last night. That was odd. Usually they stumbled in, drunk off their asses and stoned to oblivion, or as high as a fucking kite, at two-three in the morning. But I didn't fall asleep until at least four... I yawned, more from boredom then actual tiredness. Oh well. They'd find their way home eventually. Besides, they'd never answer a text or a phone call from me anyway, and then if I actually asked them when they got home, they'd just look at me like I was insane. Excuse me for actually showing a small bit of concern for the man and woman who brought me into this world. Next time I'll just let you get yourselves killed. Assholes.

Winchester whined softly and pushed his nose against my hand gently.

“What's wrong, boy? You gotta go out?”

He licked my hand.

“I'll take that as a yes,” I said, sitting up.

Winchester jumped down off my bed and walked out of my bedroom.

I followed him, finding him waiting patiently for me at the front door. I opened it and, after letting him brush by me to go do his business, I walked out and sat down on the steps.

The only time Winchester ever left my side when I was home was when he went out. But even then, he always stayed where I could see him, and he could keep an eye on me. He was given to me as a birthday present by my grandma when I was eight years old; a few months late, as he was born the same day I was. Grandma thought it would be cute for her only grandchild to have a dog that was born on the same day he was. Well, it was fun, I have to admit, to always have someone to celebrate your birthday with. But, recently, Winchester had been growing extremely protective of me. It was only to be expected though, because my dad had gotten more violent. The last time I spoke to him, he hit me with the closest object (which just happened to be an empty beer bottle). Winchester had immediately started growling at him. Luckily, the bastard was so drunk he couldn't hear him, otherwise poor Winchester would have probably ended up with the same beer bottle that had nicked my arm bashing his head in.

When Mello saw the scratches, he practically had a heart attack. Thankfully, he didn't do anything stupid. I'd hate to lose him simply because he'd wanted to protect me.

Winchester walked back up to the porch and pushed his nose against my hand. He wanted to go back inside.

“Alright, boy,” I said, standing up. “Let's go.” I froze when I saw the cab stop in front of the house. Well, at least they had enough sobriety left to get a fucking cab, I suppose. Small favors.

***

I sighed. I'd locked myself in my room over an hour ago. The second they came in the door they'd started fighting. And then it turned into making out. I shuddered. How they managed to go from hating each other so badly they wanted to kill each other to wanting to fuck I'd never know. Not that I wanted to.

Winchester was sitting next to me, his body actually pushed against my side as I was sitting on the floor beside him.

I had my mp3 player, with the headphones in my ears, turned all the way up with one of the loudest songs I had on it on loop, and I could _still_ hear them. I hated this house. I sighed and closed my eyes, resting my right cheek against the top of Winchester's head. Maybe I could get a little bit of sleep, just a little...

“MAIL, YOU LITTLE FUCKER! GET YOUR LITTLE MOTHERFUCKING ASS OUT HERE!”

Oh for the love of--

“NOW!”

“Fucking hell,” I groaned, turning my mp3 player off and slinging it onto my bed as I stood up and, unlocking my bedroom door, walked into my own personal hell, Winchester following close behind me.

“Yes, Dad?”

“Don't 'Yes, Dad?' me, you little shit,” he snapped. “Why isn't dinner ready?”

I blinked. The hell? It was only about, oh, six thirty-ish. And they'd just been going at it for the past hour, anyway. Curse my overactive imagination. Sometimes I wished it would go fuck itself. “Because, I figured you would want to relax a little and then you could have a nice hot dinner.”

He glared at me and swung his arm back.

I knew he was going to hit me; bastard always did when I made a point that disproved him.

Winchester growled softly beside me, his left shoulder pressed against my right knee. I could even see his lip pulling back slightly as his growl began to morph into a snarl. If my dad moved, he'd attack him for sure.

My dad's gaze shifted to the dog beside me.

Winchester had only attacked him once before, when I'd first gotten him and my dad made the mistake of moving too fast around me. It hadn't been overly serious, but he'd only been a puppy then, with a very small, very weak bite. He was fully grown now, and pissed. Those two are never a good combination with a German Shepard.

My dad sighed and shook his head, lowering his arm and turning away from me to sit down in his recliner. Apparently sex actually sobered him up. “Whatever. Just have it ready soon. Your mother and I are hungry.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. I set a hand gently on Winchester's head, before making my way to the kitchen.

Winchester followed me as always.

I sighed and, washing my hands quickly, got to work on dinner, scrounging what I could from the cabinets.

My mom came into the kitchen. “Mail, get the dog out of the kitchen.”

“He doesn't like to be anywhere but right beside me,” I replied, filling a pot with water to cook the noodles to make macaroni and cheese.

“Don't talk back to your mother.”

“I'm _not_ , Dad,” I sighed. “I was simply telling her that Winchester prefers to be right beside me all the time. He's not nosing into anything, nor is he getting under foot. I don't see why there's a problem in that case.”

“I don't like the dog near the food; he might get into it,” my mom complained.

Jesus Christ. I sighed again, feeling like shoving my head through a brick wall would be easier than this. Had I  _not_ just said that Winchester wasn't nosing into anything? Did she not know how to fucking listen? “He won't get into it, Mom,” I said exasperatedly. “He's too well-trained for that. Aren't you, boy?”

He licked my foot, his way of agreeing with me.

“See?' I said, putting just the right amount of salt in the water and putting it on the stove before turning the burner on medium. “He's really intelligent, Mom, and he listens well. He knows I don't want him getting into human food, and that he'll be fed later, so he won't mess with dinner.”

“Well... I still don't like it,” she said. “But, whatever. I'm too hungry to care right now. Robbie, let's fuck again while Mail's cooking supper.”

I shuddered mentally and wished I'd brought my mp3 player to the kitchen with me. The kitchen was only about two rooms away from their bedroom.

“Yeah, okay, Annie,” my dad answered, getting up from his chair with a groan.

Fucking hell. I would never be able to enjoy sex, not with those two around me. They practically fucked like rabbits every chance they got; sober or not.

***

An hour later, I was still mentally twitching as I set the table. I sighed. Ah, well. Not much I could do. “Mom! Dad! Dinner's ready,” I called.

“Fuck! Right there!”

I facepalmed. Fucking hell. They were  _still_ at it. “HEY! I SAID DINNER WAS READY!”

They emerged a few seconds later, looking more disheveled than someone that had a scuffle with a bouncy house and lost.

“You don't have to yell, boy,” my dad said.

“I wouldn't have had to if you two had come the first time I called,” I countered, completely ignoring the death glare he sent my way. Bastard was just looking for an excuse to complain, after all. If he wasn't throwing things around and cussing me and my dog out for things we'd done, or he imagined we'd done, he was complaining. That was just what he did.

“It looks delicious, Mail. I'm sure it will taste just as wonderful as it looks.”

Holy motherfucking shit. My mother had just complemented me for the first time in years. If I didn't faint it would be a miracle.

***

A few hours later I was sitting in my room, messing around on my laptop. I'd personally set up wi-fi in the house myself, but I didn't feel like talking right at that moment. I was currently messing around with something new: creating ROMs from video game cartridges. It gave me something to do, truthfully. I tapped away at the keyboard, copying the necessary data from the cartridge. It was my back up, to be stored only on the jumpdrive I had bought specifically for this purpose. I loved my 64, and I cared for it well. I was a gamer after all, what more could one expect? But, I still knew that it would eventually give out from age and use. That was what this was for. I had already cleared the data on the cartridges and now I was transferring the general game data over onto my computer.

My cellphone rang, causing Winchester to jump slightly.

I frowned. That was odd. The only people that had my cellphone number were my parents, my boss, and most recently, Mello. My parents were back to... _that_ again. My boss was currently on vacation in God-knows-where and wouldn't be back until tomorrow night, by which I would be back at work. I doubted he'd waste his precious time calling me. That left Mello. But I doubted his parents would let him call me. So who the fuck was calling me then? I flipped my phone open and set it on speaker. “Yeah, what's up? I'm kinda busy so...”

“Matt? Is that you?”

That...wasn't Mello. “B?”

“Yeah. Thank God. I was hoping you would answer,” he said.

I sighed. “How'd you get my number? I don't give my number to anyone.”

“I know that. Mello asked me to call.”

“What? Why couldn't he call me himself?” I asked, confused. “From what I know, his parents would let him call me before they let him call you.”

“Yes, that's true. But this is very important,” he said.

“Okay... What's up?” I said. Best to get this over with as quickly as possible so I could get back to backing up my games. Not that they were more important than my best friend; I still didn't trust B though. It always seemed like he was hiding something. And he made Mello act secretive around me, something I wasn't fond of.

“Mello needs your help,” B replied.

“What?”

“He's having...issues. I'm not sure what they are; he didn't quite have the time to tell me. His mother snatched the phone before he could finish telling me. But I heard yelling in the background. He just begged me to call you and tell you. Maybe he believes you can help him.”

“Fucking hell,” I groaned. This was _not_ what I'd wanted to hear. Mello having issues with his family was the worst thing that could happen right now. “What am _I_ supposed to fucking do?!” I snapped. “I don't know where he lives. How the fuck can I help him?”

“Do you think I know?” B snapped back angrily. “I'm just delivering the damn message he asked me to deliver. I don't know. Maybe he wanted you to know that way if he showed up on your porch at three o'clock in the fucking morning tonight you could get him inside before your parents went batshit insane.”

I opened my mouth to answer him when I heard a loud, frantic knock on the door.

Winchester jumped to his feet, whining.

“Shit, hold on a sec, B,” I said, jumping to my feet and running to the front door. _Hell, that could be Mello now..._ I pulled the door open.

“Thank God,” Mello panted. “Can I come in? Please?”

He had such a wild look to him that I had the most horrible feeling he'd ran all the way there.

I heard my mom moaning like a whore all the way from their room. “Yeah, come on,” I said gently, moving aside to let him in.

He barely made it to my room before he collapsed onto my floor, luckily avoiding landing on my laptop. “Did...did B call you?” he panted.

“I'm still on the line, Mello. Is everything all right?”

“N-now. Matt, I need to talk to you. In private, okay?” the blond said quietly.

“Yeah, sure. Anything. B, we'll talk later, kay?” I said.

“That's fine. So long as Mello is alright for the moment, I can get back to work.” He hung up.

Winchester was nosing Mello's cheek gently, whining softly in worry.

I sat down on the floor next to him. “Mel, what the fuck happened?” I asked quietly.

He pushed himself up and leaned back against my bed. “I can't stand that fucking house,” he said, and I could hear the pain evident in his voice. “My dad started bitching me out for my grades in Negron's class. Normally, that wouldn't bother me, coz he'd normally stop after Mom reminded him of my scores in all my other classes, especially my Russian class. But today...” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard before sighing. “He hit my mom. He's never done that before, at least, not in front of me. I've heard them arguing downstairs sometimes, really late at night when I was studying just before I went to sleep. It was never really bad before now. But today...” He let out a shuddering breath. “When he backhanded her, he gave her a black eye. I don't know how the fuck he managed it, but he did. And that's when all hell broke loose. I may not like either of them most of the time, but I'll be damned if I just stand around when a woman's being hit.”

I bit my lip. How the fuck did I help with that? I dealt with physical abuse practically every day. That's not to say I was stupid enough to try and stop my dad when he hit his wife; I'd probably lose my life if I tried that. “Mel, I--”

He flung his arms around my neck, burying his face against my shoulder, started sobbing uncontrollably. “I'm not asking for p-physical help, idiot,” he choked out between sobs. “I just want my goddamn best friend right now.”

I'd never heard him say that word before, and it scared me. I wrapped my arms around him and said, “It's alright. I'm here. I'll always be here.”

Winchester whined and lay down beside us. I knew he wouldn't move so long as Mello and I didn't.

I rubbed the blond's back gently, trying to calm him at least a little.

After a few minutes, he pulled back, trying desperately to dry his eyes. “Fuck, I'm such a baby,” he muttered angrily. “Crying like a little girl...”

“Oh, stop it,” I sighed. “You're _not_ a baby. And besides, this moment's only between us. You, me, and Winchester. I'm not gonna tell anyone, and I know he sure as hell isn't. So, you've got nothing to worry about.”

“I know,” he said, sniffling. “It's just...I'm fifteen years old and I'm crying like a two year old that just lost their favorite toy. It's embarrassing.”

“How is it embarrassing to have someone you can trust to see you at your weakest, most vulnerable point and not ridicule you but instead to do their damnedest to try to encourage you and cheer you up once more?”

Mello looked at me and smiled. “You know what? You're right, Matt. You're my best friend; hell, you're like my little brother. And I trust you with my life.” He wrapped his arms around my neck again, burying his face against my shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“You're welcome, Mel,” I said.

He released me, that small, content smile still present on his face, before he scratched Winchester's ears gently. “And thank you, too, Winchester,” he chuckled. “For keeping Matt safe when I can't, you deserve the best dinner in the world.”

I laughed. “Mello, I can barely afford semi-healthy food for the  _humans_ in this house. How can Winchester really get the best dinner in the world?”

“I'm saying he deserves it, Mattie, not that he would actually get it,” Mello chuckled. “Hey, would it be alright if I spent the night?”

I blinked. Well that was sudden. “Well, I mean, my parents are home and...”

As if to answer a unconscious communal prayer between the three of us sitting there, my dad suddenly yelled, “Mail! We're going out. We'll be back in the morning.”

“And now they're not,” the blond said quietly after we heard their car pull off down the block. “Please? I really don't think I could deal with him again tonight...”

“Of course,” I said without hesitation.

“Thanks.”

Yeah, I was definitely falling in love with that damn smile.

***

“Mattie?” Mello called in the dark. He was laying on my bed, while I'd made a pallet for myself on the floor with Winchester curled up beside me.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“I'm...I'm kinda cold.”

As if that was some sort of special cue, Winchester got to his feet and crawled up onto the bed with the blond.

“Fuck, you're warm,” Mello mumbled sleepily.

“Like a fucking heater, isn't he?” I chuckled.

“Yeah... Thanks, Winchester.”

Three, two, one.

“Ah! Dammit, dog! I didn't say eat my face!”

I laughed. “He's telling you you're welcome!”

“Could say it in a way that's a little bit drier,” the blond grumbled. “Hell, I'm glad _you_ don't tell me I'm welcome that way. I'd punch your face in.”

“Would you really?” I chuckled.

“Mm, probably not. I wouldn't be a very happy Mello though.”

“Aww, but I want a happy Mello all the time!” I snickered.

“Shut up; people can't be happy all the time.”

“Boy can dream, can't he?” I laughed.

“You're such a child sometimes, you know that?” Mello said.

“Yeah, I know. I'm fifteen and I'll be sixteen come February, but I'll always act like a ten year old,” I replied.

“Yep.” Mello yawned. “Hey, Matt?”

“What?”

“How close are you laying to the bed? Coz I have to pee and I don't wanna step on you.”

I couldn't help it; I busted out laughing as I sat up. Trying to control my laughter, lest I get swatted at in the dark, I said, “I do have a lamp on my night table, you know.”

“Oh, bite me,” he grumbled, and I heard the mattress groan as he sat up, before he switched the light on.

“Was that an offer?” I snickered.

“Watch it.”

“Shutting up now,” I said, pretending to cower away.

“Moron,” he mumbled, half under his breath, as he stood up and walked out of the room.

I couldn't help but giggle uncontrollably once he left the room. Why had I ever denied him when he wanted to spend the night? This was almost as much fucking fun as ecstasy.

“Keep it up,” he warned from the bathroom. “You just wait until I get done.”

“Oh really?” I snickered. “What are you gonna do? Poke me until I stop?”

“Oh, I don't know,” he said, stopping to lean against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and an almost predatory smirk playing on his face. “You wouldn't happen to be...ticklish, would you?”

I shut up instantly, gulping. Yes, as a matter of fact I  _was_ ticklish. Very much so. The slightest brush of someone's fingertips had the very high potential of sending me into an uncontrollable fit of giggles to the point of not being able to breathe properly for five to ten minutes. I do think most people would consider that ticklish.

The smirk grew wider. “Oh. This'll be  _fun_ .”

“N-now seriously, Mel. Y-you were just calling me childish. Tickling me in return for you feeling a bit dumb is a bit more so, d-don't you think?” I stammered nervously.

“Maybe,” he laughed. “But it sure as hell will be worth it.”

Oh, fuck.

Boy could move, I'd give him that fucking much. Before I knew just what was going on, he'd tackled me to the floor and was tickling my sides mercilessly as I fell into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, writhing helplessly as I tried in vain to get away from him. This was so unfair.

Winchester just watched us, panting. The dog was  _laughing_ at me. Wonderful. My own dog even found my helplessness amusing.

“S-stop!” I shrieked. For once, I was grateful my parents weren't home. We had to be making enough noise for the neighbors to think we were doing something weird. (Though, in a way, two teenage boys having a tickle fight _could_ be considered weird.)

“Come on, Mattie. Ask nicely and I might decide to stop,” Mello laughed as he continued tickling my sides.

No fucking way. I was not begging him. “S-seriously, stop,” I laughed. “It's getting uncomfortable now!”

“Say 'please'.”

Oh fuck no. “S-stop,” I insisted again through my laughter. “This isn't f-fair...”

“How's it not fair?” he chuckled. “It's not like I'm actually hurting you, is it?”

“Because...haha...I can't...hehe...fucking breath!” I panted.

The smile fell from Mello's face when I managed to get that out. “Sorry,” he mumbled as he backed up and let me sit up.

“It's okay,” I said, breathing hard as I sat up. “I'm just really ticklish so it just got to a point where it hurt to breathe. I'm not mad, I just couldn't breathe properly.”

“I'm sorry. Guess I should have listened,” he mumbled. “I took it too far.”

“No, it was my fault, really. I should have just asked you nicely,” I said. Then I frowned. “But now I have to pee.”

Mello laughed. “That's what happens when you get tickled, genius.”

I stuck my tongue out. “And who's fault is that?”

“Mine.”

“Exactly.” But I was grinning. I could never truly be mad at him. Perhaps a bit irritated, but never mad.

***

The next morning I woke to the sound of Mello cursing, just before he tripped over me and falling on top of me.

“Fuck! Sorry, Matt,” he said, hurriedly scrambling off of me.

“S'okay,” I mumbled sleepily. “But why are you acting like a chicken that's got its fucking head chopped off?”

“Coz. It's almost 8. I have to get home as soon as I can. If I'm not there when they wake up...” He shuddered. “I've gotta get there.”

“Mel, I can...” I had stop and yawn. “I can drive you there.”

“No, no. I don't live that far away. 'Sides, if Dad heard a car this early I'd find myself six feet under.”

“Oh. Well, I'm gonna go back to sleep after you leave then.”

“Fine with me,” Mello said distractedly as he fought his way through the cords on my floor.

I got up and walked with him to the door, Winchester followed me.

“Later,” I said, opening the door for him.

The blond gave me a quick hug around the neck and hurried, “See you Monday,” before hurrying out to the sidewalk.

Stifling another yawn, I waited until he'd disappeared around the corner before I turned to go back inside and go back to sleep.

Unfortunately, Winchester had other plans. He pushed past me to trot out into the yard.

“Oh, come on,” I sighed. “Can't you wait?”

Apparently he couldn't because he pointedly began going about his morning business.

I sighed heavily and shut the door, sitting down cross-legged on the porch. I'd just have to wait until he decided he was ready to go back inside.


	8. Chapter 8

I jumped when a cold, wet nose touched the side of my face and found myself curled on my side on the porch. “Oh, you're ready to go back inside now, are you?”

Winchester pushed his nose against my cheek again.

I sighed and pushed myself to my feet before fumbling briefly with the doorknob and stumbling inside to my room. I flopped onto my bed and, as Winchester curled up beside me, fell asleep quickly.

***

I woke around noon, to my mother shaking my shoulder none too gently.

“Mail, get up.”

“Wha? Why? 'M tired,” I mumbled sleepily.

“Get up now, Mail,” my father snapped.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes irritably. “What. I have to work tonight, you know.”

“I don't give a fuck what you have to do tonight,” he said. “We're going out now.”

The fuck? This was a first.

“Where?”

“Don't worry about it. Just get ready to go. You'd better be ready in ten minutes, or that mutt of yours is going to the pound.”

“Baby, we can't take the dog to the pound. Your mama gave him to Mail, remember?”

My dad glared at her for a moment before turning on his heel and storming out of my room.

“Just hurry, honey, okay?” she said quietly before following him.

This was going to be a long day.

I sighed and swung my legs over the side of my bed. I got up, grabbed a change of clothes and headed to my bathroom to shower. After I got out and dressed in my signature long sleeved striped shirt and blue jeans, I combed my hair quickly, and brushed my teeth. I went back to my room and pulled on my socks and shoes, and then grabbed my wallet, my keys (mainly for the house key in case the assholes left me stranded somewhere), my cellphone, mp3 player, and my orange tinted goggles. I pulled my goggles over my head and let them hang around my neck as I shoved the rest of my things into the pocket of my jeans. I put my watch on, checking the time as I did so. Nine minutes and five seconds. That was probably a personal record. “Okay, I'm ready,” I called as I walked into the living room.

My dad was practically glued to his recliner. He let his head fall to the side so he could look at me. “Annie! C'mon!”

“I'm ready, Robbie,” she said, coming into the living room.

“Get your ass in the car, boy.”

I kept my snide remark about not owning a donkey to myself and went out the door. Once I got in the car, I put my headphones in and turned my mp3 player as loud as it would go. Even if I had to be around them today, it didn't mean I had to communicate with them.

***

Twenty minutes later, we arrived at my mom's parents' house. Fucking hell.

I knew better than to complain though. While I could whine around Mello and only risk getting cuffed playfully, I knew I'd get worse today. Especially since my dad had already threatened to throw Winchester in the pound. He was in a very bad mood, and this was probably why; if I wanted to keep my head properly on my shoulders, I needed to keep my mouth shut.

My phone vibrated in my pocket suddenly. Shit. Was that blowhard that called himself my boss texting me to order me to come in early?

I pulled my phone out and flipped it open.

It was a text from a number that wasn't in my contacts. Weird.

_**What's up, Matt?** _

I rolled my eyes. I hated how people automatically assumed you would know who they were if they texted you.  _**Mind telling me who this is?** _ I texted back.

_**B.** _

I sighed. Of course. Jackass just had to make my day even worse.

_**How's Mello? Is he alright?** _

I bit back a growl. Oh, what I wouldn't give to just ignore him and carry on with my shitastic day. But... Fuck that one small part of me that actually gave a fuck about the feelings of others besides my dog and my best friend. I wish it would leave me alone.  _**He's fine. Well...as fine as can be considered.** _

_**'As can be considered'? What's that mean?** _

I sighed. This was really getting aggravating.  _**Fucking hell! It means he's fine for now. I can't really tell you EXACTLY how he's doing right at this moment because I'm not with him. I'm at my mom's parents' house. And why the fuck do you give a damn about him anyway? No one cares about him, and he doesn't care about anyone either.** _

I could practically hear a maniacal laugh in the next text.  _**Heh, that's what that fiery little blond told you, huh? That no one cares about him, and he doesn't care about anyone? Well, you may be one exception to that but there IS another, you know...** _

I was tempted to chuck my phone across the street by this point, but my curiosity got the better of me.  _**What's that supposed to mean?** _

_**I used to be an 'acquaintance' of Mello's not too long ago. I would have called us 'friends' for years before that, but Mello never saw us that way. I was never really a 'friend' to him. He always hid a part of himself from me. But, I was, and still am to this day, extremely protective of him.** _

Well. That explained part of it. My curiosity wouldn't leave me alone, though.  _**Mello never mentioned that you were protective...** _ I made it open-ended; I couldn't really explain it, but I got the oddest feeling this would spark something in him.

My feeling was right.  _**Of course that little fucker wouldn't! He never liked how protective I was.** _

I rolled my eyes.  _**Look, I don't know you. I know you're a friend of Mello's; he's mentioned you once or twice. But I don't know you, okay? If you want to know how he's doing, call him. I'm busy.** _

_**He wouldn't tell me even if I did call. He doesn't trust me. That much is obvious. After all, he didn't call me for support last night. He called me to only to tell me to call YOU. You're the special one to him. Hell, maybe you are even his best friend. I'm surely not. Regardless of how much I care. But, whatever. I'll leave you alone, don't fret. Besides, your parents would probably freak out if they found out I was texting you.** _

I didn't even bother to answer that one. It wasn't worth the effort. I put my phone away before my dad started bitching.

***

Two hours later we came back home. The little “trip” left with me with about twenty minutes to get to work. Wonderful. Yes, my life is peachy. Thanks for asking.

I didn't even bother changing my clothes. I just greeted Winchester for a few seconds before letting my parents know I was headed to work (and only getting a grunt in response), before turning around and heading back out the door to my car.

This was going to be a long night.

***

“My God. It's a fucking miracle. Mail Jeevas is actually at work, not only on time but _early_.”

Fucking bastard. I ignored him and went behind the counter, taking over for Sam that had had the displeasure of working the shift before me.

“You're not getting paid overtime, you know,” Evan, the asshole that ran this miserable little corner game store, said.

“I know,” I said boredly. All of us were aware of that fact. No one got paid over time. No one got more than five sick days a month. I had unfortunately used up all five of mine at the beginning of the month when a flu bug hit me. Put me out of school all week, and work. But seriously. Who gives teenagers no more than five sick days off a month, especially during the school year, other than this jackoff? No one, that's who.

“Oh, and Jeevas? You'll be working Halloween night too.”

The fuck? Normally, I would ignore the jackass and just nod and “uh-huh”, but this was too far.

“Evan, there's no way I can take Halloween. I have school projects,” I said.

“I don't care what the fuck you have. Either you work Halloween night, or you leave right now.”

I saw Sam's jaw drop. I was the best employee here and Evan knew it as well as anyone. If he fired me, this store would crumble. He had to be bluffing.

“You can't be serious,” I said.

“As a heart attack. You work Halloween, or you walk out of my store right now,” he said.

“You know what?” I said. “Fuck you. You're going to regret losing me, because I'm the best goddamn employee you've ever fucking had. This place is gonna crumble. But you know what? I don't give a fuck.” I threw the employee vest onto the counter and stormed to the door. “Oh, and Evan? Remember,” here I smirked. “This city listens to _me_ when it comes to techie knowledge. I can make you lose business and money so fast you'll go bankrupt before Halloween.” And I slammed the door behind me, the bell jangling loudly. I stormed down the sidewalk. I had a few blocks before I reached the lot where I had to park my car. I sighed. Fuck. What the hell was I going to do for money now?

“Hey! Hey, Matt!”

I glanced back over my shoulder.

Sam was jogging towards me. He stopped in front of me, catching his breath before pushing his glasses back up on his nose from where they'd slipped down.

“What is it?”

“I quit,” he said, grinning proudly.

“Yeah, yay for you. That doesn't help me figure out how the hell to support my family,” I answered.

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “True, it doesn't. But I know something that might.”

“Oh? And what might that be?”

He grinned. “There's a game store just opening up in the county over. It's a bit of a longer drive, but I hear it's a  _ girl _ that's the manager there.”

I rolled my eyes. Typical teenage gamer. Girls who were interested in technology were automatically the “must have”. “And?”

“And, uh, well, I was kinda hoping you could give me a ride over there so that I could possibly get an application. If you don't mind, of course,” he said, fiddling nervously with his glasses.

I sighed. “Fine. I'll take you there,” I said, turning back around and beginning to walk down the sidewalk again.

“And, um, could you take me home too?”

What the fuck was I? A chauffeur? He had to be fucking kidding me.

“Whatever.”

He owed me for this.

***

Well, maybe he didn't owe me quite so much. As it turned out, there actually  _ was _ a girl as the manager there, and she was really nice. Sam and I were hired on the spot; our first shift started that night. To top it off, we only had to work 10 hours Sunday through Thursday, and then Friday and Saturday we would work from 6 pm- 6 am. 

Our manager's name was Kat, and she was extremely nice and bubbly. She seemed more interested in talking to me while I worked the register, than running through stocking procedures with Sam; I was used to multitasking though.

“Um, Kat? I hate to be rude, but don't we both have a job to do?” I asked after about an hour of her hovering over me.

“Well, yeah, that's true. It's just fascinating to meet a hot geek,” she laughed.

I heard a strangled noise come from one of the aisles. Yep, Sam's fantasy was just crushed. I almost felt sorry for him.

“Well, I'm flattered,” I said. “But not interested.”

“Oh, that's fine,” Kat replied. “Hey, I made quiche, would you like some? I brought an entire lunch box full, so I'm more than happy to share.”

I smiled. “Sure. That sounds wonderful.”

“Oh, goody! Sam! Sam, would you like some quiche?” she called.

“Uh, yeah, s-sure. Just let me finish stocking this shelf.”

“Y'know, I think he's smitten by you,” I said, as I turned to a customer and completed the transaction they wanted, wishing them a good afternoon.

“Really?” Kat said in disbelief.

“Yeah. He's really smart too, you know.”

“You don't think--”

“If you gave him the chance, I'm sure he'd ask you out once he got up the courage to,” I said knowingly. It was true. I'd known Sam since the 3rd grade. He always tried for the girls who were too far out of his league and all they really had going for them was their “apparent” beauty. But here was a girl who had the smarts, the actual ability to hold an engaging conversation with, and the beauty. It was the perfect combination; and it would leave everyone envious of him.

“Well... Okay!” She grinned. “Thanks, Matt.”

“No problem.”

“Okay, I'm done,” Sam said, walking over.

I gave Kat a pointed look and tilted my head slightly in Sam's direction.

Her eyes widened a moment as realization hit her. “Here, Sam. Why don't you try one first?” she said, pulling a lunch box from under the counter.

“Uh, okay,” he said.

I almost smacked him. He was already nervous. This wasn't going to get anywhere fast if I didn't do something. Idiot would be moping for months if this fantasy fell through.

_ Ask her _ , I mouthed.

He shook his head.

_Ask her, dammit!_

He sighed and closed his eyes, swallowing hard. “Um, K-Kat? Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, Sam. What is it?” Kat asked, smiling as she handed him a piece of quiche.

“Um... Wouldyougooutwithmesometimelikeonadatemaybe?”

Fucking idiot. I almost smacked myself. How I ever imagined this would possibly work was beyond me. The kid practically developed a rash every time he got around a girl.

Miraculously, she smiled. “Sure. I'd love to go out with you some time, Sam,” she said kindly.

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He actually passed out from shock.

Kat leaned over the counter to see him. “Um... D'ya think maybe we should move him?” she asked in concern.

“Nah, he'll wake up eventually,” I laughed. “He's not exactly what you'd call adept when it comes to asking girls out. He can't even ask his little sister if she wants to go to the movies with him.”

“Really?” It was kinda cute when her eyes widened in disbelief; I could really see what Sam saw in her.

“MATT! You promised you wouldn't tell anyone that!”

I laughed. “Oh, come on. You really think Kat's gonna change her mind just because of that?”

“She might!” he screeched.

Kat giggled. “It's okay, Sam. I think you're cute when you get all nervous,” she replied.

“Careful, don't wanna put him in shock again,” I joked.

“S-shut up, bastard!”

“Language, mister,” I chuckled. “We're in the presence of a lady, after all.”

Sam spluttered angrily for a moment before remembering the quiche Kat had given him. He tasted it and almost moaned. “This is delicious,” he said.

“I'm glad you like it.”

“I do, I do,” he insisted.

I shook my head, chuckling to myself. Maybe they would work well together after all.

***

I managed to make it home around ten thirty.

Winchester greeted me at the door as usual, but my dad was in his recliner.

“You're home early.”

“Uh, yeah...”

“You're lazy ass got fired, didn't it?”

“No. I quit.”

“Wonderful!” he snapped. “Now what the fuck are we gonna do for money?”

“I don't know,” I retorted bluntly. “Maybe you can get off your lazy ass and actually get a job for once.”

“Watch your tongue, boy. I'm still your father and I--”

I rolled my eyes and went to my room. I wasn't going to let that bastard ruin my good mood. I stifled a yawn as I changed into some sleep clothes and crawled into bed. I'd deal with the consequences in the morning. With any luck, he'd be drunk and passed out before then.

***

As I suspected, the house was quiet the next morning. I took my time showering and getting ready for school. I double checked to make sure I had all my homework. When I was finally ready, I grabbed a pack of Pop-Tarts out of the kitchen cabinet and made my way out the door, scratching Winchester's ears as a quick good bye when I passed him.

I ate my Pop-Tart while I waited for Mello to get to school.

“Hiya, Mattie,” he said as he pulled his helmet off. “How was work?”

“I quit.” I handed him the second Pop-Tart and the keys.

“What? Why'd you quit?” he asked as he put his helmet and jacket in the car and then locked the door before handing the keys back to me and taking a bite of the Pop-Tart I'd given him. “Ooh, chocolate,” he said quietly, before looking up at me expectantly.

I shoved my keys in my pocket. “Evan told me I either worked Halloween night or I left; so I left. Don't worry, I already have another job,” I explained.

“Really? Where?”

“A game store in the county over. And Sam has a girlfriend now. Well, it's not 'official',” I said, putting air quotes around the word. “But it might as well be.”

Mello laughed. “A girl gamer. Brains and beauty. Shame most guys only appreciate the beauty part,” he said playfully.

“Yeah. So, you ready to go in?”

“I've got one more question,” he said quickly.

“Go ahead.”

“Are your hours gonna be any different? Coz those hours you did have work were only digging your grave faster,” he explained.

“Actually, I now have a much more lenient schedule,” I laughed. “I only have to work 10 hours Sunday through Thursday night, and Friday and Saturday I'll work 6 pm- 6 am.”

“That's wonderful. At least you'll be able to relax now. You'll still be getting paid properly though, right?”

“Mello, Evan paid us about five dollars an hour and minimum wage is seven dollars. I've never been paid properly,” I said as I jumped off the trunk of my car and hefted my bag over my shoulder. “But, Sam and I are getting paid ten dollars an hour.”

Mello grinned. “That's wonderful. Less stress and more money. I'm happy for you, Mattie.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Maybe now I'll actually pass my classes without killing myself.”

“Yeah,” the blond chuckled. “That's definitely a plus. So, do you have to work tonight?” he asked as we made our way towards the school.

“I do,” I replied. “But I don't have to be there until seven thirty and I'll only work until nine thirty. If you want, we can work on our papers tonight.”

“I think you're starting to read my mind,” Mello laughed.

“Pfft, as if. I'm not psychic. I just know you,” I countered playfully.  
“Yeah, I guess you do, I suppose.”

The bell rang and we went our separate ways until lunch.

***

I made my way to Henderson's class and settled into my seat in the back.

“Mail!” Henderson barked.

“Yes, sir?”

“How's that project coming, son?” he asked.

“It's coming, sir. It's about halfway done,” I answered.

“Very good. And what about of the rest of you miserable excuses for students? Has anyone even worked on their papers?”

Surprisingly not a single hand was raised.

“Unbelievable. I give you two weeks to work on a paper, that really should only take one week, and the only person that has even touched their assignment is the one student in this class who doesn't sit around being babied by Mommy and Daddy all the time? Fine. You want to know what I'm going to do?”

No one made a sound. Henderson was  _ beyond _ pissed today.

“All assignments are due tomorrow, regardless of their state of completion. Matt, however, may turn his in on the original due date of Friday.”

Complaints instantly started flying.

“SILENCE!!” he snapped. “No complaining. I'm not listening to sob stories. Any uncompleted projects will be graded as they stand tomorrow. Unless you would rather I just gave every unfinished project a zero?”

Everyone immediately shook their heads no.

“Very well then,” Henderson said. “If there are no more complaints, we will begin today's lesson then.”

I sighed. This had to be the beginning of one of the best weeks of my life. I got rid of that blowhard Evan (though I still had to remember to spread the word about no one needing to go there; Sam would more than likely be willing to help with that), a new job with better hours and better pay,  _ and _ I was on Henderson's good side again. Yes, this was a very good day, indeed.


	9. Chapter 9

“Well, someone's happy today,” Mello said as I walked up to him just after the lunch bell rang. “You didn't sneak out and get high or something, did you?”

“Not unless high on life and happiness is an option, no,” I answered.

“You're grinning like a fucking Cheshire Cat, though. What's got you so pleased?”

“Maybe the fact that history papers are due tomorrow,” I replied.

“How's that something to be happy about?” the blond asked, worriedly. “You're only halfway done!”

“I know. But Henderson is allowing me to turn it in on Friday; everyone else has to turn their papers in tomorrow.”

“How'd you manage to get on his good side?” Mello chuckled as we walked out to our usual table under the oak tree.

“That's where this gets so marvelous, Mel. I'm on Henderson's good side coz I'm the only one that's even started on the paper. I.e, he's pissed at the entire class for sitting on their lazy asses doing nothing.”

“This has got to be the start of the best week of your life, huh?” he laughed.

“Yep. All's well now. But fuck, I need a smoke.”

Mello rolled his eyes. “C'mon wouldn't that just ruin your good mood?”

“Not really,” I said. “It would probably make it even better. Coz I have to deal with idiots in my next class.”

“Oh, fine,” the blond sighed. “I take it we'll be going on the roof again?”

“Yep.”

We made our way to the roof of the school building and sat down on the edge, letting our feet dangle over the side.

I pulled out my pack of cigarettes, shook one out, lit it, and put it between my lips taking a long drag off of it before I sighed.

“What am I gonna do with you?” Mello sighed. He lay his head on my shoulder. “Can I talk to you about something though?”

“Mel, you know you can talk to me about anything,” I said. I didn't question why his head was on my shoulder; we'd figured out the hard way that asking to do certain things, or asking why they were done, only made them extremely awkward. So long as we didn't say a word, we were perfectly comfortable.

“Well, I didn't get any sleep last night for one,” he explained, yawning widely.

“What happened?”

“Dad was bitching again. Wanting to know why I just up and left Saturday night. I told him I'd left so that I didn't do something I regretted and he flung his Bible at me. Stupid hardback piece of shit hit me in the stomach; it's bruising now.”

I sighed. “Mel, why are you putting up with him? If he's abusing you or your mom, you two need to get out of there. It's not safe. Why not get B to help?”

“Matt, I'm not getting B to help me.”

“Why not?” I countered. “He would help.”

Mello pulled away angrily. “Matt, if I wanted Beyond's fucking help do you really think I would have asked you? I don't want his help. I don't want him around me. He acts like my damn mother sometimes.”

“Mello, before this conversation goes any further, what exactly _is_ Beyond Birthday to you? Because he told me he thinks of you as his friend.”

“The fuck? Where's this coming from? And when the hell did you even talk to him??” the blond snapped.

“He texted me yesterday,” I explained. “And he said that he's considered you to be his friend for a very long time, but you never saw it that way. I'm just not sure exactly what to believe here; you told me I was your first friend...”

“Oh my God,” he breathed. “Oh my God. Do you really think I would LIE to you? Honestly? Is that really how little you think of me?” He sounded so...hurt.

I swallowed hard, closing my eyes. “I'm sorry, okay? Please don't be mad. I've just never really been good at trusting people, and---Gah!”

He wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me so hard I let out a squeak. “No, I...I'm not mad, okay?” he mumbled. “I just...I don't know. I've never really been good at trusting people either.”

“Okay,” I sighed. As long as he wasn't mad, I could live with it; for now at least. “But can you let go of me? It's kinda hard to breath.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure.”

“Thanks,” I said. I took another drag off of my cigarette. “I would offer to let you stay with me but...”

“It's okay, really,” Mello said. “I just wish there was a way I could talk to you whenever I was feeling lonely coz it sucks feeling like that at 3 am...”

“There may be a way I can fix that though,” I said thoughtfully.

“Hmm? How so?” he replied, settling down on his side with his head in my lap.

“I might be able to get you a cellphone. If I can put a second phone on my bill, you would have a way to contact me whenever you needed to.”

He smiled. “You'd really do that for me?”

“Of course I would, stupid. You're my best friend.” I smiled softly. “I just wish I could do more.”

“Oh, Matt. Now who's being stupid?” the blond laughed. “You're doing more than enough by just being my friend.”

***

That afternoon, I went to the store I got my phone from. The girl standing at the customer service counter looked so bored, I almost felt sorry for her.

“What can I do for you?” she sighed.

“I was hoping I could possibly get another phone on my plan,” I said.

“Oh. Okay. Well, that will add the original price of the phone as well as twenty extra dollars every month for the second phone.”

I shrugged. “Alright. I need to pay my bill today anyway, so can I just pay for all of that now?”

“Whatever.”

I nodded and glanced over the selection. Mello needed something extremely basic, otherwise he'd probably get frustrated with it and smash it to bits. I chuckled to myself as I picked out a flip phone like mine. I'd have to teach him how to text. Oh, that would be a fun day for sure.

“Will this be all, sir?”

I nodded.

“That will be $167.59.”

I handed over two hundred dollars and said, “Just keep the change,” before I left.

The faster I taught Mello how to use this thing the better.

***

I waited until the next afternoon to give the phone to him. “You'll want to let it charge about 14 hours before you actually start using it, alright?” I said.

Mello nodded. “So, I can call you whenever?”

“Duh. It's not like you'd be disturbing my parents, either. But, text might be easier. Especially during like school hours, or when I'm working,” I explained.

“I don't know how to text,” he protested though.

“I'm aware, Mel, that's why I'm gonna teach you. It might take a while, but I'm gonna teach you.”

“Great. Thanks, Mattie,” the blond replied, smiling.

“Don't mention it. Just don't tell your parents about it. This is _our_ way of communication, okay?” I said.

Mello nodded. “Right. They'd probably just confiscate it anyway. Mind if I come over today?”

I shrugged. “I don't see why not. I don't have to work until tomorrow again, considering how long my shift was Sunday night.” I handed him my phone. “Just make sure it's alright with your parents, of course.”

“Right.” He took my phone and walked a few feet away to make the call. A few seconds later he came back. “Mom says it's fine. I just have to be home by eight.”

“Alright, let's go then.”

We came into my house to find it entirely empty, except for Winchester sitting patiently by the door, waiting as usual.

“Odd...” I said aloud.

“What?”

“They're not here. I haven't seen them since yesterday afternoon.”

“Don't they randomly disappear for extended amounts of time though?” Mello said. “What's the longest they've ever consecutively been gone?”

“About a week and a half. And the only reason they weren't gone longer is because the police called me and asked me to come get them. I was never told what they'd done, nor do I ever want to know,” I replied. “I'm not worried. Really, I don't care at all. If they never come back I'll be just fine.”

“You're lying, and you know it,” he said quietly.

That was all he would ever say on the matter. And, as much as I hated to admit it, he truly was right. I was lying when I said I didn't care. They were my parents, after all. The man and woman that not only brought me into this world, but also raised me for ten years of my life. I couldn't help but love them and care about them, even if they annoyed me...

Winchester nosed my leg gently.

“Hey, boy. You miss us?”

“And you call me crazy,” Mello chuckled. “Of course he missed us. We're probably the only ones that even pay attention to him.”

“We _are_ the only ones, Mel. That's the horrible thing. Which is why he's so very protective of me; and you. He's smart; he's knows you're special to me. So, coz I'm special to him, _you're_ also special to him. Make sense?”

“In a very weird way, yes,” the blond said. “That makes perfect sense.” He smiled. “We need to get to work, though.”

I nodded. “I can make us a snack, if you like,” I said.

“That sounds nice; what do you have?”

“Hmm, we could have some pizza rolls. Or, chicken nuggets. Those are quick and easy to fix,” I answered.

“How about both?” Mello asked. “If it's not too much trouble, of course.”

I laughed. “Mello, nothing is too much trouble when it comes to you, you know.”

“Whatever,” he shot back, and I could tell he was getting just the tiniest bit embarrassed. “I'll be in your room with Winchester, okay?”

“Right.”

Fifteen minutes later, I carried the two bowls, one full of pizza rolls and one full of chicken nuggets, into my room. I set them down on the floor by Mello, where he had some of his papers spread out around him.

“We can work on the site from your laptop, right?” he asked as he took a pizza roll from the bowl.

“Of course,” I replied. “What do you want to drink? Tea?”

“Yeah, that'll be fine,” he mumbled distractedly as he nibbled on the pizza roll. “Thanks, Matt.”

“Don't mention it.”

He was really stressing about that project. Not that he didn't stress about being the top in his other classes, but this was on a different level entirely. He was too worried that he was going to fail it, despite my help. There  _was_ really only so much that I could guide him with, though. I couldn't do the project for him.

I sighed. Oh well. I'd just have to help him as much as I could. I brought two glasses of tea back, one for him and one for myself. “Back,” I said quietly.

“Wha? Oh, hey,” he mumbled in response before going back to his notes.

I sighed and sat down beside him, pulling my laptop towards me and bringing up his in-progress website. “Give me the notes you have so far and focus on writing, okay?”

“Okay,” he sighed, passing the papers to me.

Winchester whined suddenly.

“Mel, are you okay?” I said. He did look kind of pale.

“I'm just tired and stressed is all, Matt.”

“Don't pull that shit with me. You of all people should know that I know how thin the line between just 'tired and stressed' and 'ill' is. Do you have a fever?” I ignored his protests as I pushed his bangs to the side and pressed the back of my hand to his forehead. “Well, you don't feel hot,” I mumbled, feeling his cheek as well.

“I told you I'm fine,” he grumbled.

“Like hell you are,” I said.

He sent me a weak glare. “I'm  _fine_ ,” he insisted. “I have less than three days to finish this project. That's the only problem.”

“Fine. But you better not be getting sick on me, idiot,” I said, giving in. “Take a fucking nap though. Your paper's already three quarters of the way done, and the site's halfway complete. You can afford to take a break for a little while, you know.”

“I-- Fine, but I'm using you as my pillow,” he grumbled, laying his head down in my lap.

“Right. And while you're resting, I'll work on my essays,” I replied.

“Sounds good to me,” he mumbled, already sounding sleepy.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as he shifted just a little to get comfortable. Maybe one of these days he'd learn not to push himself so damn hard. Until then, someone had to keep him from killing himself. But I'd be a hypocrite if I denied being the same way.

***

I stifled a yawn as I glanced at my alarm clock. 6:40. Wonderful. Well, at the very least, my German essay was done. Only French and History left. I glanced down at Mello.

He was still sound asleep, curled up on his side with his head still resting on my lap. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep though. Like he didn't have a care in the world.

I wished I could make that possible. He put too much stress on himself, but his bastard of a dad really wasn't helping that either. Some people just couldn't be good with the techie things. Mello, sadly, just happened to be one of those people. He worked his ass off just to send a proper email, or type something in Word. HTML was almost entirely beyond him. Negron's class was only a semester long though; I had a bad feeling that Mello was already too far gone to save his grade in that class, even with my help.

I heard Mello yawn and then he sat up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “What time is it, Mattie?” he mumbled.

“About twenty till seven,” I answered, grabbing a chicken nugget and popping it into my mouth.

“Oh.” He took a few pizza rolls and re-situated himself against Winchester's side. “How are you coming?” he asked quietly after a few minutes, silently nibbling on the pizza roll. His eating habits were honestly starting to worry me.

“Well, I have my German essay done, and I'm working on my French one now,” I replied.

“That's...good,” he said, pausing midway through his sentence. The hell? He usually talked so fast that sometimes I had trouble properly understanding. Something was definitely up. Though, for now, he was more than likely right. It was probably just exhaustion making him act weird.

“Yep.” I continued writing. One more page and I would hit the maximum Madam Amadieu had assigned. Then that just left Henderson's essay. Luckily, none of the teachers thought it necessary to give us extra homework when they'd already assigned essays. I continued writing in silence until Mello spoke again.

“Mattie? Do you think I'm stupid?”

I looked up at him in shock. He was the second smartest kid in our school and he was asking me if I thought he was stupid. I shook my head and went back to my essay. “No. Of course you're not stupid, Mels. Why would you ever think that?”

“...My dad thinks I am...”

“Well, your dad's wrong. You're not stupid; you're quite the opposite. You're one of the most intelligent people I've ever met in my life,” I said. I'd kill that bastard one of these days; if he only knew what he put his own son through...

“But Dad says I'm stupid if I can't pass a basic class like Computer Programming,” he protested dejectedly.

“Then your dad's a fucking idiot,” I said fiercely. “Not everyone's good with computers, but just because you're not doesn't make you stupid. You're the second smartest kid in school.”

“Yeah. _Second_ smartest,” he mumbled, putting a heavy emphasis on the word 'second'.

I stopped writing. Well, shit. The boy had a fucking inferiority complex. “Mello,” I began slowly, trying to pick out my words carefully so that I could make him understand.

“You don't get it!” he cried. “If I'm not the smartest, I'm just a fucking idiot. If that's one thing Dad's taught me, it's that. If you're not first, you're last. If you're not the smartest, you're an idiot.”

I snatched the front of his shirt and pulled him face to face with me. “Listen to me, dammit!” I said. “You are NOT an idiot; you're not stupid; and most importantly, you're not a fucking failure, alright?”

He opened his mouth to protest.

“I don't give a fuck what your dad says. You're not any of that. You're one of the smartest people I know, and you're a great person to be around. And don't you EVER let anyone tell you any different,” I said firmly.

“Mattie, I...”

Before I knew it, he'd buried his face into my shirt, sobbing hard.

“Oh, jeez...” I sighed. He really was an emotional wreck, wasn't he. “Don't cry, Mel...”

“What the fuck am I supposed to then?” he snapped, pulling back and trying to dry his eyes. “Just keep it all bottled up until I can't take it anymore and...”

“Shh, that's not what I meant,” I murmured gently, taking his hand in mine and pulling it away from his face, lightly brushing his tears away with my sleeve. “I just hate to see you cry over something so trivial.”

“It's not--”

I put my finger over his lips gently. “Shh. I know, alright? Just don't beat yourself up about it, okay? You're wonderful just as you are. You don't need to change for anyone,” I said. I took my finger away. “Please cheer up.”

Mello nodded, swallowing hard. “I-I'll try,” he mumbled. “But I wouldn't be able to if it wasn't for you. So, thank you, Matt. You're a good friend.” He smiled. “The best.”

“I'm not that good.”

“Yeah. You are. If I'm not allowed to think poorly of myself then neither are you, silly,” the blond insisted, poking my chest playfully. “It's only fair.”

“You're right,” I said, smiling as well. “It is only fair. Oof!”

He tackled me in a tight hug, burying his face against my shoulder.

I sighed and wrapped my arms around him tightly. Some things would never change. Not that I would ever want them to. I didn't care if people thought we were weird being so close, at least, not anymore. Besides, this side of Mello only came out when we were alone and I treasured the moments like that when he would just let everything out and bare his heart to me. It was something he'd never allowed anyone before me, nor would he probably never allow anyone after. And honestly? I fucking loved that.


	10. Chapter 10

An hour later, I had my French essay completely finished. I yawned, celebrating my small victory, before glancing over in Winchester and Mello's direction.

Winchester had his head resting on his front paws, which were crossed just under his chin. He glanced at me and his ear tip twitched slightly.

Mello was sound asleep once more, curled on his side with his cheek resting against Winchester's back.

I bit my lip thoughtfully. It was true he had to be home by eight, but... Shit, I didn't want him to get in trouble for being late; but I didn't have the heart to disturb him either with how little sleep he seemed to be getting lately. I grabbed his notes, pulling them towards me as I opened my laptop and brought up his half finished site. It wasn't cheating, after all. He'd already done the work, it was just putting everything together. At least this way he could get more sleep.

Five minutes later, I had everything sufficiently set up on the site. I held myself back from going completely graphic with a shitload of animations as I usually did. This _was_ supposed to look like Mello had put it together, after all. And, given he could barely master basic HTML codes, it would have been a dead give away that the project wasn't his if there was something that advanced present.

The blond mumbled something in his sleep and then sat up suddenly, breathing hard, his eyes wild.

“What's wrong?” I swear I'd heard B's name in those mumblings, but I pushed that thought away. It didn't matter anyway.

“Wha' time is it?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes, his voice slurred slightly from sleep.

“It's about quarter till eight,” I answered, saving the progress on the site and shutting everything down. “You will make it home in time, right?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Mello mumbled, trying to stifle a yawn. “I don't live that far away, actually...” He started gathering his notes together, slipping them into some semblance of order before shoving them into his notebook.

“Really? You never mentioned that,” I said.

“Oh, I didn't? Sorry. But I do; I live...Here.” He tugged a blank sheet of notebook paper out, scribbled something down on it and shoved it into my hands. “There's my address. I gotta go, okay?”

“Thanks. Yeah, sure. I'll walk you out.”

***

The rest of the week went by smoothly. It fell into a practical rhythm. School, spend time with Mello, work. It almost became ritual; a good ritual though.

We passed our projects in. I'd pulled one of the highest scores I'd ever made in Henderson's class with my paper; Mello managed to scrape a very high B. It wasn't the best, but it was a pretty good improvement considering his previous assignments had barely scraped C's. He just honestly sucked with computers. I'd have to find a remedy to that.

Which brought us to where we were on a Wednesday afternoon, two weeks after we'd met. I was pretending to be semi-interested in what two girls were blathering on about in French. (They were  _ supposed _ to be practicing. I thought they were simply using it as an excuse to go on about their love lives.) I jumped when my phone vibrated suddenly. I glanced toward Madam  Amadieu's desk.

She was focused on the two idiots' pronunciation.

Good. I probably wouldn't get in much trouble either way because she loved me so much, but it would still be easier if she was distracted. I flipped my phone open.

_**Mattie?** _

_** Yeah, Mels, what's up? ** _ I texted back. I glanced up from my phone.

Madam Amadieu was still focused on the two girls.

I glanced back down when my phone vibrated again.

_**Can u meet me somewhere? Plz?** _

I sighed. I got a bad feeling from him asking that, especially with his use of text talk. Mello was practically a fucking grammar Nazi even when texting.

_** Yeah, sure. Just lemme come up with an excuse. Where u wanna meet? ** _ I responded.

_**The roof.** _

Great. I flipped my phone shut and shoved it into my pocket before raising my hand.

“ Oui, Matt?” Madam Amadieu asked.  
“Puis-jeutiliser les toilettes?”  
“Oui, vous pouvez. Essayez d'être de retour bientôt, s'il vous plaît.” She let her attention drift back to the girls before she motioned for them to continue.  
“Oui, madame,” I responded, before getting up and slipping out the room.

I barely made it onto the rooftop before I found myself on the ground with my best friend practically on my lap with his head resting against my chest who was in the process of breaking down worse than I'd ever seen. “Jesus Christ, Mels,” I muttered, glad he hadn't managed to knock my head against the bricks. “What's wrong?” I said softly, trying to gently pry his hands away from his face. “Don't pull away from me; tell me what's bothering you.”

He flung his arms around my neck and buried his face against my shoulder, still crying hard.

I sighed quietly, closing my eyes. I wound my arms gently around him, pulling him just a little closer. “Will you please tell me what's wrong?” I murmured.

The blond swallowed hard, pulling back but keeping his arms wrapped loosely around my neck. “My dad's gonna kill me...”

“How so?” I whispered, reaching up and wiping his tears away gently, though they kept falling despite my efforts.

“Coz. They called me to the office just a little while ago. And Negron informed my dad that even with the grade on that project, it would take a miracle for me to make an A in the class...”

“C'mon, the lowest you would make then is a B. That's not too bad,” I insisted.

“If you're not first, you're last,” Mello mumbled dejectedly, drying his eyes and climbing off of my legs. “That's what Dad always says. He's gonna kill me.”

“For a B? That's the most fucked up thing I've heard. 'Sides,” I said, grinning. “I can help you, you know, silly.”

“But it'll take a miracle to--”

“Oh, shush. Pessimist,” I chuckled, playfully flicking his nose. “Your best friend's a techie and you don't think that's miracle enough to pull an A in a basic Computer Programming class, even if you've barely been passing before? Have you that little faith in me?”

“No, of course not,” he insisted. “I have faith in you; I'm just trying to be a realist, here.”

“Well, stop. I'll help you, alright? You don't have to worry about losing your perfect A average. I'll make sure of it,” I said gently.

“Okay,” he said, sniffling quietly. “I'm sorry I tackled you and blew this so far out of proportion. Crying like I did...”

Rolling my eyes, I pulled him in a hug so tight he squeaked quietly. “It's alright. You don't have to worry about it. You're my best friend, okay? The best way I can repay that is to be everything I can for you. So stop apologizing coz there's nothing to apologize for.” I loosened my embrace, but he didn't move away. “Don't worry. I won't let your dad kill you.”

Mello smiled. “Thanks, Matt. But...and be honest please, I don't bother you when I get this emotional? I'm worse than a fucking girl sometimes...”

I snorted. “It doesn't bother me at all. It's just something I overlook coz you're my friend, and that's just the way you are.”

He frowned slightly. “From anyone else, that answer would piss me off...”

I laughed. “I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment, or protect my face,” I said.

“It was meant as a compliment, idiot.”  
I stuck my tongue out at him playfully and ducked a purposely un-aimed swing. “Haha! You missed me!” I taunted.

“Oh, I'll 'miss you' alright,” Mello laughed, as he lunged after me.

I jumped to my feet, barely missing his outstretched arms and causing him to stumble to his feet, before taking off to the other side of the roof and darting behind the Ag greenhouse.

“Get back here you, dork!”

“Un-uh!” I laughed. “You're gonna have to catch me! Which isn't—Shit!”

He tackled me and pinned me against the greenhouse. “Isn't what, Mattie?”

“...Happening?” I tried, smiling sheepishly.

“I think having you pinned against the Ag greenhouse counts as caught, dork.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right,” I chuckled.

“But I still haven't got you back yet,” he continued.

“Oh, I'm  _ so _ scared.”

And then, Mello did something he'd never done before. He let go of my wrists and shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever. I'm going back to class.”

“What the hell's wrong with you?” I said in confusion. Borderline bipolar in nature or not, that was weird for even him. “You sure you're not getting sick?”

“Dunno,” he replied, shrugging again. “I'll see you in Lit.” And then he disappeared back into the school.

I just stood there in disbelief for a few minutes. What the fuck was wrong with him lately? This time a week ago he'd been bouncing off the walls. Friday he'd seemed all mopey and out of it. Now this? Something was definitely up. But what the hell was it?

As if to further my confusion, he didn't so much as greet me in Lit. True, we had a test for practically the length of the entire block, but still. And then he left before I was even fully packed.

His bike wasn't parked beside my car when I reached it.

I bit my lip, wondering if I should text him to see what was up. I decided against it, given he probably wouldn't answer it until hours after he'd gotten it anyway. I shrugged my discomfort off as best as possible and left to head home.

***

The next morning was like nothing had ever transpired the day before. Mello was the same hyperactive bombshell that he always had been.

I shrugged it off though. It was more than likely just the worry and stress caused by his dad that had caused him to act so weird the day before. Nothing to worry about.

“So, Mom says I can either come over today but I'd have to leave by nine, or, I can wait til tomorrow and spend the night. Which is better for you, Mattie?” he said cheerfully.

I took a second or two to process what he'd said before I answered. “Well, I have to work tomorrow night, so I guess it would be best for you to come over tonight.”

“Oh, okay. That's fine. I'll just have to tell her this afternoon. Don't we have to do that moronic re-enactment tomorrow? Aren't we doing a piece from A Midsummer Night's Dream?”

Why was it taking so fucking long for my brain to process him today? I shook my head to clear it. “Yeah, we have to do some scene between Titania and Puck, I think,” I replied.

“Ah, okay. Yeah. That's right. Well, anyway...” He trailed off, and for once my brain actually had kept up with him.

“What's up?”

“Isn't that the scene where Titania kisses Puck on the head?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Could be. I can't remember right this moment.”

“Oh.”

***

The day flew by; it was always like that when Mello was acting particularly ADD, though. Seriously, he would _not_ shut up at all when we were together. First it was about assignments, then his mom and dad. Hell, he even ranted about B for the entire time we sat in Lit.

Half of it I barely paid attention to though. I just couldn't no matter how hard I tried. His words ran together so horribly it was like the entire day was a giant run on sentence with all the words crammed together. Which left me sitting cross legged on the floor by my bed as he rambled on about God-knew-what. “Mello, will you please SHUT THE FUCK UP?!” I snapped. I couldn't take it anymore; I really couldn't.

His jaw dropped open and he blinked at me in shock. I'd never yelled at him before, at all. I'd always just ask him nicely to slow down a bit so that I could understand him, or to be a little quieter. But I never told him to shut up. He bit his lip a moment, before... “What the _fuck_ is your problem today, bastard! I can talk if I fucking want to.”

I sighed and looked down at my hands in my lap; they were shaking, that was a very bad sign. “Mello...please. I didn't mean it like that,” I amended. “I just cannot for the life of me understand you today. All day it's sounded like one giant ass run on sentence and it's given me migraine. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell, or to tell you to shut up. It's just frustrating to not be able to understand you.”

“No...I guess it's my fault. I should be apologizing. I didn't mean to get like that.”

I shook my head. I could feel my left eye twitching now; I knew without even looking in his direction that he was watching me. “D-don't...”

“Are you okay? Matt?” I could hear the worry in his voice.

“I...” The word died on my lips. I couldn't begin to fathom how to answer that question. I felt so...out of it right then, and it wasn't due to the fact that I hadn't had a cigarette since that morning. “I need a smoke,” I said finally, stumbling to my feet and hurrying out the room. I walked outside and sat on the railing of the porch. I didn't pull out a cigarette though; I just closed my eyes and tried to breathe normally.

“...Mattie?” a voice said hesitantly. I heard Mello pad across the planks of the porch and come to a stop beside me. “You gonna be okay?” he said quietly from my right side.

“I don't know,” I sighed. “I just feel weird lately, and I don't know why...”  
“I felt that way yesterday,” he said. “It was almost like...like it wasn't really me doing somethings, like I was just observing passively; even if I was against it, it still happened at times.”

I set my head against his shoulder. “I'm kinda scared to be honest,” I mumbled. “I don't know what's going on and I don't know how to fix it.”

“Just smoke a cigarette,” Mello offered. “It'll probably help you clear your head a little. I know chocolate helped me last night.”

“Kay, I'll try.” I moved off the railing, settling down on the wooden floor of the porch and leaning back against the railing, before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, taking a slow drag.

“Better?” He'd settled down cross legged beside me, watching me intently.

I sighed, letting the smoke out of my lungs. “A little...”

“Good.”

I went back to my cigarette, pushing away all the 'weird' feelings and just relaxing as much as I could. I felt him settle his head onto my shoulder and I smiled a little. The only thing missing now was...

Winchester nosed the door open before padding across the porch to lay down beside me and put his head in my lap.

I chuckled.

“What's so funny?” Mello mumbled.

“I've got my best friend and my dog right here. I'm starting to feel even better already,” I answered, taking another drag off of my cigarette.

“Well, that's good. What time is it?”

I held my right wrist out so that he could check my watch.

“Hmm, six. I've got three more hours. Why don't we just stay out here a little longer?”

“Sounds good to me,” I replied. After a few minutes of silence with Mello's head resting on my shoulder, and he was humming softly to himself, I said, “Halloween's Saturday. Do you have any plans?”

“Huh? Oh, not that I know of. Mom and Dad don't let me celebrate Halloween,” he mumbled.

“Well, then let's see if we can hang out, just the two of us,” I said. “We could go to the movies.”

“What would we see? Not like we can see any of the good ones coz we're not old enough. 'Sides, Dad would probably kill me if I did anyway, whether I was old enough or not.”

“Well, then I would doubt they would object to not having to feed you for a night, am I right?” I asked.

“I'll see, Mattie. But I can't make any promises, especially on this short of notice,” he sighed.

“Alright.”

***

An hour later, long after my cigarette was gone, Mello's stomach growled loudly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in embarrassment.

I laughed. “Don't worry about it. You want some dinner?” I said.

“Mm, yeah, that'd be nice, Mattie, if it's not too much trouble,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “What have I told you, Mels?”

“That...nothing's ever too much trouble when it comes to me?”

“Exactly. Now let's get inside before it starts to get chilly and you catch a cold,” I said, standing.

“I'm not gonna catch a cold, _mother_ ,” he grumbled.

“And _I'm_ not your mother, Mels. I'm just a concerned friend.” I walked inside, catching his reply despite his attempt at silence.

“You're more than that and you fucking know it.”

I smiled. Yeah, I guess I was more than just a friend. He'd said himself that I was like his little brother. “C'mon and tell me what you wanna eat. Hell, we could even order pizza if you want, and watch a movie.”

“Doesn't matter to me,” Mello said. “Just so long as I get to spend time with you, I could care less what we eat or do.”

“Okay, okay. Pick out a movie to watch, and I'll order the pizza. Anything you _don't_ want on the pizza?” I asked, picking up the phone.

“Mm, I hate anchovies,” he said, settling down on the couch.

I laughed. “Well aren't we easy to please?”

“All personal opinion, Mattie-kins,” the blond replied blandly. “Though you're the first to ever say that.”

I shook my head and went to the kitchen to find the number to the pizza place and make the order. By the time I'd come back, Mello had picked out a movie I recognized almost instantly, it being one my grandmother had loved to watch when I was younger. “Really, Mel? 'True Romance'? It's a romance movie,” I said.

“It's a crime,” he insisted.

“Whatever,” I said, flopping down on the couch beside him. “The pizza should be here in twenty minutes.”

“M'kay.”

***

By the time 8:45 rolled around, Mello was sound asleep next to me, curled against the arm of the couch.

I yawned. “You hungry, Winchester?” Mello and I together had managed to eat almost the entire pizza, but I'd caught him slipping some to Winchester when he didn't think I was looking.

Winchester was sound asleep. Well, that answered that question.

“Mello?” I nudged him.

“Mm, stop it. Lemme alone...” he mumbled sleepily.

“You know, I could just tickle you,” I said.

“Do that and I'll break your hand.”

“Yeah, I'm so scared of that, Mello,” I answered. “You know you wouldn't really.”

“Okay, maybe I wouldn't,” he said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Quarter to nine.”

“Well, I guess I should get going, I suppose,” he mumbled.

“Yeah...”

“See you tomorrow, Mattie,” Mello said, hugging me before getting up.

“Yeah, see you.”

After the door shut, I found myself mumbling, “I wish you could stay....”


	11. Chapter 11

I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling. It was nearing three in the morning but, for once, my insomnia wasn't due to work. Instead, it was caused by a particular blond that had left only six hours ago. I found myself...almost _craving_ his presence. I was craving just to be around him, just to talk with him. I was craving him as badly as the substances I flooded my veins with every day. But this was...different somehow. Different...

“Oh, God,” I groaned aloud.

Winchester picked his head up and tilted it towards the side in curiosity. Almost as if he was asking me what was wrong.

I sighed and scratched his ears lightly. “What am I gonna do, boy?” I asked. “I think I'm falling in love with him...”

Winchester whined and lay his head on my stomach.

***

The next morning, I waited for him to pull up. I'd arrived early anyway, but for some reason I felt like an excited puppy.

The first bell and still he hadn't arrived.

I was worried, but I tried to shrug it off. Maybe he was just running a little late; I was sure he'd be here by lunch.

But lunch came, and went, without a sign of him.

_Okay, maybe he had to go somewhere last minute today_ , I reasoned as I walked into Ms. Roland's class.

“Matt?” she asked. “Where's Mello?”

I shrugged. “Dunno. I guess he's sick. I haven't seen him at all today.”

“Oh.” She nodded and I made my way to my seat in the back.

***

After class got out, I didn't think, I just acted. I walked up to Ms. Roland's desk.

“Yes, Matt?” she asked without looking up. “How can I help you?”

“Can-can I get Mello's work so I can take it to him and he can work on it over the weekend?” I asked.

“Yes, of course,” she said. She gathered a few copies of the assignments we'd done that day. She handed them to me and said, “And don't forget to tell him that you two will have to present your excerpt to the class on Monday.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I said, nodding. “Thank you.”

I went to his other teachers as well, saving Negron for last. When I made my way into his class he looked up and laughed.

“Well, hello, Matt, he said. “What can I do for you this afternoon?”

I smiled. “I was hoping that maybe I could get Mello's work for him since he was out today.”

“Oh, you're friends with him, are you?”

“Yep.”

Negron chuckled. “I wondered why his grades had improved suddenly.”

“Yeah, I've been helping him,” I said, rubbing the back of my head in slight embarrassment.

“It shows,” he said. “Now, as for the assignment. I actually gave them a project. Yes, I know Mello will love hearing that. But, perhaps you'll make it easy to understand for him. The boy just seems to be unable to understand the basic codes.”

“Heh, yeah, I've noticed that. It took us about two hours before I could explain to him what HTML was and did,” I said. “But thank you, Mr. Negron. Hopefully Mello will be back on Monday, ready to give you the assignment.”

Negron nodded. “Very well, here you go,” he said, handing me a small, stapled packet. “All the information is in there, but should something still be misunderstood, you will no doubt be able to explain it to him.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Now, run along, alright? I have some assignments I need to grade.”

I nodded, thanking him again, and left. I went to my locker and pulled my books out, putting them into my bag. I hoped Mello wouldn't need any of his books that he hadn't taken home last night, but if he needed them, I could just loan him mine for the weekend. I sighed and hefted my backpack over one shoulder while I tried to balance Mello's make-up work in my arms. This was gonna suck.

I managed to get to my car and drop Mello's assignments on the trunk of my car so that I could dig out my keys and unlock my car. I put his assignments and my backpack in the back seat and climbed into the driver's seat. Okay. Now, how was I gonna do this? Oh, yeah, that's right. I remembered he'd given me his address about a week ago, don't remember exactly why though, and I'd scribbled it down on a sheet of paper in my notebook. Digging the thing out, I pulled out the paper. Hmm, 384 Central Ave., huh? That was only about a three blocks from my house.

Chuckling to myself, I stuffed the paper back into my notebook and my notebook back into my bag, before turning around and making my way to his house.

Once I pulled up, I made sure to park in the street. I didn't want to piss his parents off, after all; especially when I was, in actuality, doing their son a favor. I grabbed Mello's assignments and made my way up to the door before ringing the doorbell.

After a few minutes, the door was answered by a blonde who looked to be in her late 30's early 40's, with shoulder length hair. Well, I knew who Mello'd gotten his hair from then.

“What do you want?”

“I'm a friend of Mihael's,” I said, figuring his parents more than likely referred to him by that instead of his nickname like mine did. “I'd noticed he was out of school today, so I brought his make-up work for him.”

Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she looked me over.

I could feel myself beginning to twitch slightly. I hated being scrutinized like that.

“Very well,” she said eventually, even going as far as to almost adopt a sweet tone(like the stereotypical housewife). “He's upstairs in his room, probably asleep. Would you mind taking him some soup for me?”

“Uh, sure,” I replied. Hell, if it got me away from this woman faster, I'd do just about anything.

She smiled and disappeared down the hall to (presumably) the kitchen, before coming back and placing a bowl of soup in my hands. “His room is the third door on the right, dear.”

“Thank you,” I said, nodding. I adjusted his assignments under my arm to take the bowl in both hands and I made my way up the stairs. When I reached the right door, I shifted the things I was holding again, and knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” His voice was somewhat muffled by the door.

“It's Matt,” I answered.

“Matt? C-come in.”

I opened the door to find Mello half sitting up in his bed, rubbing sleepily at his eyes. “Have a good rest, Sleeping Beauty?” I chuckled as I closed the door gently behind me with my foot.

“Shut up,” he grumbled. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought your assignments.”

“Oh. Yay. You can put them on my desk, I suppose.”

I nodded, setting the papers and the bowl down on his desk. “Oh, and your mom sent up some soup,” I said as I turned back to him.

I swear he turned green for a split second before grumbling, “I'm not hungry.”

I rolled my eyes. “You should eat though.”

“No, you don't get it,” the blond said. “Her cooking is shit, literally. Nearly every time me or my dad eats it, we get sick. Even if it's just canned or prepackaged stuff that she only had to heat up, somehow she ruins it.”

“Oh.” Well, that would explain suddenly loosing your appetite, I suppose. “Mind if I sit down?”

Mello pulled his legs closer to him, almost sitting cross-legged under his sheets and patted the mattress in front of him. “Go ahead.”

I sat down hesitantly as the bed creaked slightly. “Well, this would suck to have sex on,” I muttered unthinkingly.

Mello laughed. “Why do you think I don't even risk _having_ a girl over?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I was figuring you'd be too interested in studying to pay attention to the female gender,” I joked.

“Meh, true.”

I laughed that time. “So, you've never kissed anyone?”

“What kind of question is that?” he countered.

“Never mind,” I said, shaking my head. Though, it was odd that he completely evaded my question.

“Mihael! I'm going to the store. I should be back in a few hours, alright?”

“Fine, Mom!”

I couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face.

“What?” he asked indignantly.

“Does she really aggravate you that badly?”

“You're an idiot,” he muttered.

I tilted my head to the side in curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”

“She doesn't like the fact that I'm friends with you. In fact, if she were 'allowed' to hate you, she would. But she really, really doesn't like you,” he said.

“I've never even talked with the woman before today,” I said. “How could she possibly not like me?”

“I sort of...told her about you,” Mello explained. “When I asked about Saturday.”

“Oh.” Yeah, Saturday was more than likely out of the picture now.

“I'm sorry, Mattie, really. But she wouldn't stop pestering me about it.”

I shrugged. “It's fine. Not like I care what she thinks of me. At least she hasn't started calling me a demon or the spawn of the devil, or some bullshit like that.”

“Heh, yeah.”

I sighed and glanced around his room. “So...”

“Yeah?”

“Why weren't you at school today?”

“I'm sick, dipshit. Why else do you think I wouldn't be at school?” he said irritably.

“I was trying to subtly ask what was wrong, you jerk,” I answered.

“Oh. Well that...” He trailed off suddenly. “Oh shit,” he breathed and bolted towards the bathroom.

I sighed. So that's what it was. I got up and followed him, kneeling down beside him on the tile floor and holding his hair back as his stomach emptied itself into the bowl.

When he could finally take a few gasping breaths, he mumbled, “You didn't have to, y'know.”

“I know, but what are friends for, right?”

“True. Thanks, Matt.” He pushed himself to his feet and rinsed his mouth out in the sink.

“You should get something solid in you, or at least try, you know,” I said gently.

“I'm not eating that shit she sent up. I'd be sicker than I already am.”

“Would you like me to make you some soup then?” I offered. “You need something light like chicken noodle soup. Just enough to give you a little bit of energy.”

Mello nodded, swallowing. “Okay.”

“Come downstairs with me then, and we can talk while I'm cooking.” I went back to his room to pick up the bowl of soup before making my way downstairs, the blond following close behind me.

Mello sat down at their kitchen table and lay his head on his arms.

I couldn't help but feel bad for him. I knew what it was like to be sick; it drained all of your energy on top of making you feel like shit. And most would say “Well, at least he's got his mom to take care of him.” Bullshit. Woman couldn't even cook edible chicken noodle soup. I dumped the soup down the drain and washed the bowl thoroughly before setting it in the dish drainer to dry. I dug around, not wanting to bother Mello as bad as he was feeling, and eventually found a pot to cook the soup in and a can of chicken noodle soup. I put it on, adding just the right amount of water, before fixing the blond a glass of water and gently pushing it against his arm. “You need some fluids, Mel.”

He nodded tiredly, sat up properly, took the glass from me and took a few small sips. “Thanks.”

“Don't mention it.”

He just smiled and took a few more sips of water.

I went back to cooking. “Hey,” I said, the thought hitting me as I was stirring the soup. “You want me to set up that web cam since I'm here? That way you can talk to your friend.”

He shrugged. “Whatever. You can meet him too then.”

That was...odd. He seemed like he didn't _want_ to talk to this friend, at least not while I was around. I pushed the thought away though. I wouldn't pester him about it. I finished the soup, poured it into the bowl, washed the pot and, taking the bowl in my hand turned and said, “Well, come on. Let's go back up to your room and you can eat this while I hook everything up, okay?”

***

Once he was situated and comfortable on his bed, and he'd told me where his laptop and web cam was, I set to work.

“You're not gonna use the manual?” he asked, poking his spoon around to find a piece of chicken.

“Nope,” I replied, pulling up the necessary programs and running them. “Don't need 'em.”

“Hn.” He continued eating his soup in silence.

“Done,” I said after a few more minutes. “Everything's set up.”

“'Kay.” Mello put the half-eaten bowl of soup on the table by his bed. “Can you send him an email?”

“Sure, just tell me who,” I replied.

“BB; it's Beyond Birthday on the contacts list.”

I nodded as I pulled up his email; I froze suddenly. “Wait... THAT'S B?!”

“Uh, yeah,” Mello said. “I've told you his full name before. Weren't you paying attention?”

“N-not really,” I mumbled sheepishly. “You must have said it yesterday when everything kept getting jumbled. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” he said. “But B can be a stubborn asshole sometimes.”

“I'll take that as that's why you don't really want to talk to him,” I said, mostly to myself, as I searched through the contacts. I wasn't even going to think about that, truthfully.

“I'll be right back,” the blond said, getting up and walking out the room, leaving the door partway open.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I'm just going to pee is all,” he replied.

I nodded and went back to sending the email.

Mello came back into the room a few minutes later. After he got back under his covers he said, “Mattie, come here and sit beside me.”

I felt myself flush slightly. “I'm already on your bed, though,” I mumbled lamely. It was true. I was sitting cross-legged near the foot of his bed, his laptop open in front of me.

He frowned slightly. “What's wrong?”

“It's nothing,” I replied. “Oh, look, he answered. He says he'll set it up in a minute or two.”

“I don't give a damn about that right now,” Mello said. “What's wrong with you? We're best friends, aren't we?”

“We _are_ ,” I said. “It's just...” I sighed, swallowing hard. “I think I like-like you...”

“Really?”

“Yeah...” I looked away from him, doing a few last minute checks to make sure everything would work properly.

The blond laughed.

“I-It's not funny!” I spluttered angrily, flushing slightly.

“In a way, it kinda is coz I thought I was the only one that felt that way,” Mello said, snickering softly.

“Yeah, well, you're not. And my feelings aren't a laughing matter,” I grumbled.

“I know that. And I'm sorry for laughing. I shouldn't have done that; I should have been more considerate of your feelings,” he said softly. “Now, will you please come sit by me?”

“Yeah, sure,” I replied, crawling up by him and situating the laptop in front of us.

He smiled. “Thank you, Mattie.”

“Eh, don't mention it.”

The blond sighed quietly and lay his head down on my lap.

I found myself smiling slightly as I ran my fingers lightly through the golden strands. Some small part of me had always wanted to do that, to know if his hair was as soft as it looked. It was.

“Heh, that feels good, Matt,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Oh, really? It's not putting you to sleep, now is it?” I chuckled.

“Mm-mm, I'm awake. It's just nice and comforting is all.”

“Well, that's good.”

The small video chat screen flickered to life.

“Hey, Mello. What's up?” a man with raven hair hanging in his equally dark eyes said.

“Not much, B.”

“Who's the red head?”

“My friend, Matt. I was sick today, so he brought me my make up work and set up the web cam stuff,” Mello replied.

“Oh. So, he's the infamous Matt. He looks like more than a friend to me,” B said.

“S-shut up!” the blond grumbled.

“Sorry,” the raven-haired man laughed, though he didn't sound quite that sorry to me. “Forgot that was a touchy subject for you.”  
“Whatever.”

“Aw, don't sulk, Mel!” B laughed. “It's not very becoming.”

“Now I remember why I always refused to talk to you,” the blond grumbled. “You're an annoying son of a bitch.”

“Meh. So I am.” The man cackled. “Anyway, I've gotta run. It was nice talking to you. Later. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Mello said, before getting up and walking to the bathroom.

“ _Love you”_? But he said he'd never felt that way be fore, and that he'd never been close to a person. Was all of that just a lie?

“Matt, what's wrong?” he asked as he shut the door behind him. He'd already come back; he was looking at me curiously.

“Was it all just a lie?” I whispered.

“What?”

“You said you'd never liked anyone like that before, nor did you ever feel close to a person. Was that all just a lie?” I asked.

“Matt, what are you talking about? When he said 'love you' and I said 'love you too'? That's just a joke we have between us. Alright? That's all. The first person I've ever, _ever_ felt feelings for is you, Mail. That's it. Yeah, B's a good person in his own weird way, but I can't tell him my deepest secrets, I don't feel comfortable being around him like I do with you. I would _never_ let B see me like this, to see me so weak and vulnerable. I would be too embarrassed. But I don't feel that way at all with you. You're so caring, so...kind to me, even when you're not to the rest of the world. I can be myself around you. There's nothing between B and myself, he simply cares for me and is protective of me. That's all. Please, believe me,” Mello pleaded.

And that's when I realized how much I loved him. I knew that last line was a lie; there was more to his and B's relationship with each other and I knew it, yet I still believed him. I loved him, so I believed him. Whether it was a lie or the truth, I would always believe him. “Okay, I believe you, Mihael. Now, come lay back down and try to get some sleep, okay? I'll even let you use me as a pillow, how's that sound?”

The blond smiled gratefully. “That sounds wonderful,” he said as he crawled back into his bed and curled up next to me, laying his head on my shoulder. “Thank you, Mattie,” he mumbled sleepily, nuzzling a little against my shoulder.

“You're welcome, Mel.”


	12. Chapter 12

Over time, the only sound in the room was Mello's soft breathing. He'd shifted just a little so that his right arm fell across my lap.

I couldn't help but smile as I lay my cheek against the top of his head. Maybe, what I felt wasn't love just yet, but as long as we gave it the chance, we could get it to grow.

I heard a car door slam shut, but I paid it no mind. I didn't move until I heard footsteps on the stairs and Mello was elbowing me in the ribs. “Ow, fuck. What is it?” I mumbled.

“Move!” he hissed in response, nudging me harder. “She's comin' up here! _Move, dammit_!” He shoved me hard onto the floor.

I scowled a bit, wincing at my sore rear end. “Right, right,” I mumbled. I crossed my arms on top of the covers on the side of the bed and set my chin on top of them right before the door opened up.

“Mihael, I'm home.”

No shit, Sherlock. My ass knows that quite well. Wanna ask it? Bitch.

“Hey,” Mello said sleepily. He shifted about a little under the covers. “When's dinner?”

“Your father's bringing home dinner. He'll be home in about an hour,” she answered. “Are you two having fun?”

Mello had his right elbow propped on his knees, his cheek resting against his palm, so his face was turned more towards me than it was his mother. He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mom.”

“Good, well, I'll be downstairs. Call if you need anything. Don't forget he'll have to go home soon.”

“Right.”

She turned around and left us alone again.

“Fucking hell,” Mello groaned, slumping back against his pillows.

“You okay?” I asked, concerned.

“Yeah...” He shook his head, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms before rolling onto his side, facing me, and sighed. “I just wish she wouldn't do that...”

I nudged his hand, that was resting just a little ways from me, with my elbow and sent him a half grin. “C'mon, don't worry bout it, kay?” I said. “Let her be a bitch.”

“But she's-”

I shushed him quickly, covering his mouth gently with my hand. “I said don't worry. It doesn't bother me at all, Mel. In fact, it's more of a challenge, y'know?”

“How so?” he mumbled around my hand (I still hadn't moved it yet).

I chuckled. “She doesn't want us to even be friends, can you really imagine she would want us to be more?”

Mello's eyes widened slightly and I caught a muffled “oh”.

I moved my hand away before pushing a few stray strands of hair away from his face gently. “See? So don't worry, coz you'll probably end up making yourself sicker.”

“Okay,” he said, a small smile on his lips. He shifted a little so that his cheek was pressed against my arm. “You wanna see if you can stay for dinner?” It was just a sleepy mumble as his eyes were already closing as I ran my fingers gently through his hair.

“Sure, can't hurt to try,” I replied. Wouldn't have mattered really if I had or not. Poor thing was already dozing by that time. I smiled and simply continued running my fingers through his hair. As long as the bitch didn't come barging back in, we'd be just fine. If he slept better using my arm as a pillow, I sure as hell wasn't going to push him off of me. He looked so peaceful, anyway...

***

“Mihael! Your father's home!”

Mello jumped at the sound of his mother's voice, sitting up suddenly and clutching his head as he did.

I grabbed his arm gently. “You okay?” I asked worriedly.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I just moved too fast and got dizzy,” he mumbled.

“Y'know, you never told me _how_ you got sick this morning,” I said. I was running my fingertips lightly over his forearm in attempt to comfort him, if only a little.

“Well, I felt fine. Until I'd gone down to eat breakfast,” the blond muttered. “And then Dad said something about school and I went to answer him, only to throw up on him instead.”

“Yeesh.” I shook my head. “That sucks. I'm sorry.”

“Eh, doesn't matter. Dad was sure as hell pissed though. He had to go change and ended up being late for his meeting.”

“What a bastard,” I said, leaning my head against his arm. “More worried about a stupid meeting than his son's health...”

“That's my dad for you,” Mello mumbled.

“MIHAEL!”

“Speak of the devil,” he grumbled. “C'mon. Before he blows a fucking gasket.”

“Right.”

***

“Who's that?” Mello's dad had to have been almost two feet taller than Mello and I. And he just gave off this aura of “Don't fuck with me, or you'll stop existing”. Great for the self-esteem and confidence. Not.

“David, dear, that's Mihael's friend, Mail,” Mello's mom replied.

“Scrawny little brat, isn't he, Eileen? Whatever. He can go away now,” David answered.

“Um, a-actually, Dad,” Mello said, suddenly finding a bit of courage. “I was wondering if...maybe...Matt could eat dinner with us?” He flinched when his dad glared at the both of us.

David scowled, and I saw Mello gulp visibly. He was actually  _scared_ of this bastard. 

“...Fine. Get to the table.”

“Thanks Dad!” Mello said happily. He tugged my wrist. “C'mon, Mattie. Dining room. Now.” And then in an undertone. “Before he changes his mind.”

“Yeah, sure,” I answered, letting the blond drag me down the hallway.

***

We sat down at the table in the dining room. The table itself was rather larger, so there was enough room for Mello and I to sit on the same side of the table.

Mello's dad, David, had brought Italian. It wasn't my favorite food (nor was it probably a good idea for Mello's stomach, either), but I wasn't going to complain. I had a bad feeling that if I did, it would be on Mello's head and not my own.

“So, boy, are you feeling any better?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Mello said as he accept the plate of pasta his mother handed him with a mumbled thanks.

“You know, you almost cost me a business deal, boy,” David went on.

Mello swallowed hard, looking down at his food guiltily, his fists clenched in his lap. “I-I know. I'm sorry Dad...”

“And you better not let your marks slip either.”

“Stop it!” I snapped angrily as Mello shrunk a little more into himself.

David just glared at me as Eileen gasped in shock

Mello tried to shush me, a frantic look in his eyes, but I shook my head, holding him off.

“It's not his fault he got sick,” I went on. “So you have no right to be making him feel guilty for it. Everybody gets sick sometimes. It's a part of life, for crying out loud! And his grades aren't going to slip after _one_ freaking absence either. I brought his make up work for him. That was the whole reason for coming here today, after making sure he was all right, of course. Not to put up with your bullcrap. And, for your information, _I_ can help him with his Computer Programming class as well!

“I feel sick. May I be excused?” Mello asked suddenly.

“No. You'll stay right there, boy,” David said. “And you.” He rounded on me angrily. “You need to learn to keep your mouth shut when---”

“David, please,” Eileen pleaded suddenly, silencing him instantly. She placed her hand against Mello's forehead gently. “Mihael, sweetheart, do you feel like you're going to throw up?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You can be excused, okay? Mail?” She looked at me. “Go with him.”

“O-okay,” I stammered as she turned back to her husband. I turned to Mello and nudged him gently. “C'mon, Mel.”

He nodded and followed me out of the room.

Halfway down the hall, he dropped down to the floor, resting his head against his knees.

I sat down beside him, rubbing his back gently, not saying a word, rather listening as Eileen's and David's voices slowly got louder.

Mello gagged once, quietly, and the slapped me suddenly. “You son of a bitch!” he hissed. “Why couldn't you keep your mouth shut?”

“Mello, I was trying to help,” I mumbled guiltily.

He swallowed hard and rested his head against my shoulder. “I know you were, Mattie, but...”

“I've only made it worse, haven't I?” I mumbled.

The blond only sighed heavily in response.

“Do you still feel like you're gonna throw up?” I asked.

“Just a little,” Mello answered. “It'll pass soon though.”

“Okay. I'm really sorry though.”

“Don't be,” he insisted softly. “You were only trying to help coz you care. I”m not mad.”

“Alright,” I said, sighing.

We sat like that for a few minutes before Mello shifted his weight a little more onto his hip and leaning against my side.

“You're gonna have to go home soon...” he mumbled, trailing off.

“Yeah...”

Mello sat up. “I want you to spend the night,” he said.

“But--” I tried to protest.

“I...I just don't wanna be alone...”

Well, shit. There was no way in hell I could say no to that vulnerable look. The look that made him look so much like a lost, wounded kitten.

“Okay,” I sighed. “I'll see what can be done, alright?”

He flung his arms around my neck and buried his face against my shoulder.

This, was gonna be fun.

***

After we'd finished our dinner, Mello sprung the question on his mother.

“What is it, Mihael,” Eileen asked.

We were sitting in his room, Mello sitting cross legged by the head of the bed, while I sat a few feet away on the edge.

“I want Matt to spend the night,” Mello said. “Please, Mom?”

“Ugh, your father's going to kill me for this, but fine. He can stay,” she conceded.

“I'll help him with his Computer Programming stuff, too,” I promised.

Eileen nodded and left the room

Mello was practically grinning like a Cheshire Cat, but it fell away suddenly. “Shit...”

“What?” I asked, crawling up beside him in concern. “D'ya feel sick?”

He shook his head. “I'm better than ever with you around. But don't you have to work?” he replied.

I laughed, grinning. “Don't worry bout that,” I said, flicking his nose playfully. “All I have to do is text Kat and tell her I'm staying with you.”

“Y'sure?” he asked, looking worried.

“Yeah,” I assured him. “I'll do it right now, kay?” I pulled my phone out and sent the text quickly before putting the phone back in my pocket.

“Matt, I...”

“Yeah, what is it?” I asked.

“I...” He swallowed whatever words he'd originally intended to say and instead saying, “Thanks. You're a really good friend. The best.”

“I'm not, really,” I mumbled in embarrassment as he shifted around and settled down under the covers.

“Yes. You are,” he insisted. “Now get under here with me.”

“Kay,” I said, crawling under the sheets with him.

He smiled, closing his eyes slowly. “Good.”

I rolled my eyes, mentally laughing. Times like this I could tell he felt that if he just openly admitted his feelings about the matter, whatever they were, he would lose something. Maybe one day, I could convince him to the contrary...


	13. Chapter 13

I lay there watching Mello for a few minutes.

He frowned suddenly, without opening his eyes and grumbled, “I'm not an attraction in a zoo, yanno...”

“I know,” I chuckled. “But you're kinda cute when the stress doesn't show on your face...like now.”

The blond's eyes flew open and I saw a light pink briefly dust his cheeks. “'M not cute,” he mumbled, not looking at me.

“Whatever,” I laughed. “You can believe what you want, just get some sleep. We'll work on your assignments tomorrow, alright?”

“Okay,” he mumbled. He closed his eyes again and let out a sigh. After a few minutes, he shifted a little closer to me and his hand brushed against mine, causing a small spark of electricity to pass through me.

I saw Mello smile slightly before his breathing deepened and he'd fallen asleep.

I felt a small smile playing across my lips. Cute really wasn't the right word to describe him. Mello was fucking beautiful. That's all there was to it. I lifted my hand up slowly, though I wasn't really sure why. I guess I was scared he'd wake up and push me away. I let my fingers lightly trace along his cheek bone. I froze when his breath caught a little.

The blond coughed twice before his breathing calmed again.

I let out a silent sigh. I'd been so sure he was about to wake up; I pulled my hand away gently.

This was so screwed up. I was falling in love with my best friend. Worse yet, I was fighting the quickly growing desire to want to know what it felt like to touch him, to be touched _by_ him...to kiss him. 

I could hit myself.

Mello would kill me if I tried that. If I knew him half as well as I thought I did, he would run through the school naked before he let me make a move on him.

I sighed and rolled away from him. I'd have to wait...

***

I woke to the creaking of the retarded bed and I sat up to see Mello stumbling out of the room.

Wonderful.

By the time I'd gotten out of the bed and managed to make it to the bathroom, the blond was brushing his teeth.

“Oh, hey, Matt,” he mumbled, after he spit the water he was rinsing his mouth out with into the sink. “Sorry I woke you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Are you okay?”

“”Yeah. My throat's just a bit sore,” he answered, rubbing his throat a little. “It sucks being sick.”

“That's for damn sure,” I said.

Mello was studying me carefully. “Are you okay?”

“Wha? Oh, yeah. I'm fine,” I mumbled, looking away. I couldn't fathom why I was being so paranoid with him.

His hand shot out and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “Mail Jeevas what the  _fuck_ is wrong with you?” he hissed.

“It's noth--” My voice died in my throat when I saw the look in his eyes. That concerned, but hurt look; he was worried that he'd done something to hurt me. “Mel, really. I'm fine, alright? Just focus on feeling better, kay?”

“Mattie, I...”

I felt his thumb ghost over my bottom lip as he pulled his hand away and I had to suppress a shiver.

He chewed his lip, worriedly almost, his eyes not meeting mine. “Sorry, I just thought... never mind,” he mumbled, pushing past me.

“Mello, what is it?” I asked, turning off the bathroom light and following him back to his room. “What's wrong?”

“It's... I'm being selfish,” he said, getting under the covers before scooting over to make room for me.

I crawled in beside him and said, “How the hell are you being selfish?”

“Coz I'm gonna get you sick; I still want you to be with me, so I'm being selfish,” he mumbled, hiding his face, half with the pillow and half with his hand.

“Pfft. I don't call that selfish,” I said gently, pulling his hand away from his face.

“What do _you_ call it then?” he mumbled, his voice partially muffled by the pillow.

“Heh, I call it being human, Mels,” I said.

“Oh, shut up,” he grumbled, rolling over and turning his back to me.

I sighed and rolled over. “But even if it was selfish, you deserve to be selfish every once in a while...” There was no point in arguing with him though. Instead, I occupied myself with glaring at the moonlight that had found its way through Mello's curtains and was falling across the floor. I watched the light creep further and further across the floor as I heard Mello's steady breathing behind me. I really had no right to be upset at him for being too embarrassed to admit how he felt about things; I couldn't admit things either.

I heard the cuckoo clock downstairs chime 1 A.M. and sighed. I wouldn't be getting any sleep when I was used to being up at this hour. I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep by focusing my restless mind on Mello's breathing. Of course, the second I started to doze off, Mello's peaceful slumber turned feverish.

He shifted uneasily in his sleep, causing the mattress to groan in protest. He rolled onto his back, mumbling in his sleep.

By that time, I'd rolled over to face him and propped myself up on my elbow. I reached out hesitantly and felt his cheek. He felt a little warm and I was worried he could end up getting worse, but a fever didn't necessarily mean worse. Hell, the fever was an indicator that his body was fighting whatever he'd come down with.

I ran my fingers lightly across his cheek and he seemed to calm a little when I did. I leaned down and lightly pressed my lips to his. When I pulled back, I whispered, “Feel well soon, please. I lay back down and finally fell asleep to the soft sound of his steady breathing, my hand resting on top of his.


	14. Chapter 14

“Hey. Mattie.”

“Hmm?” I felt someone shaking me gently and I opened my eyes to see Mello's light blue ones staring back at me. “What's up?” I mumbled sleepily, sitting up as he pulled back.

“It's time for breakfast,” he answered, stifling a yawn.

“Oh.”

“'M not really hungry though,” the blond mumbled; though his stomach disproved him by growling loudly.

I chuckled softly. I knew why he was avoiding the dining room. “Hey, Mello.”

He looked up at me curiously.

I smiled. “It's too early for him to start something.”

Mello snorted softly. “It's never too early for him to be a bastard,” he said bluntly.

I sighed. “Come here,” I said, holding my arms out.

He scooted close enough so that I could pull him against me and then he set his head against my shoulder. “I don't know why he hates me,” he mumbled quietly. “I try my hardest. Am I just a bad kid?”

“Of course you're not,” I said gently, squeezing him lightly before letting him go. “He just needs to learn what the title 'father' really means.”

“Maybe,” he sighed, pushing away from me and getting off of the bed. “Come get some breakfast with me?” he asked, a hopeful look on his face.

“'Course I will,” I answered, causing a honest grin to break out across his face.

Made me wanna kiss him again...

***

When we came downstairs we found Eileen pouring two bowls of cereal for us.

“Uh... Where's Dad?” Mello asked nervously.

“He left for work already, sweetheart,” Eileen answered kindly. She walked over to where Mello and I were standing in the door way and gave him a light kiss on the forehead.

“He's still mad about last night,” Mello said dejectedly.

“Just a little, sweetie,” his mom answered. “But he's getting over it.”

“Hn...”

I hated seeing him that upset. I grabbed his hand quickly as Eileen turned away and squeezed it gently before releasing it. A thought struck me suddenly. It was Halloween. “Hey... Mrs. Keehl?”

“Yes, dear?” the blonde answered as she began to fix herself a cup of coffee.

“Um, today's Halloween and I was wondering if, I know you don't celebrate it, but can Mello hang out with me today? Like maybe go to the movies or something,” I said.

“I don't see why not,” she answered, before taking her coffee into the sitting room. “But Mihael's father will be home at ten,” she called back.

Mello practically tackled me; he was bouncing with excitement. “Thank you, Mom!” he called.

“You're welcome, honey.”

The blond was still grinning like a Cheshire Cat as he bounded over to the table.

“Y'know, this could be considered a date,” I said jokingly as I sat down next to him.

The Cheshire grin fell away and I found myself o the floor.

“Shut up!” he hissed. “We're not dating. That would involve holding hands and kissing.”

He wasn't looking at me, but I could see the bright red flush over his cheeks, even if he was hiding behind his hair.

“Mel, I was kidding,” I said, getting back into my chair and starting on my cereal.

“Still. Don't joke about that around my mom, okay?” he said, poking at his cereal. “She might end up flipping as bad as Dad did last night.”

“Okay. I'm sorry, I need to learn to watch my mouth when it's not just the two of us. But, Mel, can I ask you something?” I said.

“Yeah, sure, Mattie,” he said. “What is it?”

“You said we weren't dating,” I said, dropping my voice a little. “So, what are we then?”

“I... Let's talk about it later. When it's just the two of us,” he said quickly.

I nodded and went back to my cereal.

We finished our breakfast in silence.

***

“Hey, Mama?” Mello called from the door way of the sitting room while I stood a little ways behind him.

“Yes, sweetie?” Eileen asked. She was reading a Bible.

Figured.

“Matt and I are gonna be going now, okay?” he answered.

“Okay,” she said. “Come tell Mama good bye then.”

Mello walked over to the couch and gave her a small hug and a kiss on the cheek. “When do you want me home?”

“Sometime before your dad gets home, okay? Have fun, honey,” she said.

“Okay. Bye, Mama. Love you.”

“Love you too, baby.”

Mello turned around and brushed past me as he walked by. “C'mon,” he muttered.

“Kay. Later Mrs. Keehl.” I got no answer; not that I expected one.

***

We got into my car and started to drive off.

“So, where do you wanna go first?” I asked him.

“I don't care, really. Just so long as I get to spend time with you,” he answered, staring out the window.

“Okay.”

He was different than anyone else I'd had to drive anywhere. Most would've been complaining   
“It's too hot.” “It's too cold.” “I don't like this song.” Mello didn't do any of that though. The normally talkative blond seemed perfectly at ease with the silence.

“Hey, Mel?” I said.

“Yeah, what is it?” he asked, looking at me.

“What, exactly, are we? I mean, you said earlier that we weren't dating so...”

“Dating would involve us being _together_ , Matt...”

“I know. And you don't want that,” I answered.

“I...” He looked back out the window, his hair hiding his face, his natural defense method when he was embarrassed by something. “I didn't say that,” he mumbled.

“Then what _do_ you want, Mels?” I asked.

“I...I want us to...to be...together,” he mumbled. “To be _dating_.”

“Okay, if that's what you want,” I said.

“It is,” Mello said firmly.

I smiled. “Alright then.” Without really thinking about it, I set my hand on the console between us, palm up. Within a few seconds, I felt him put his hand in mine, hesitantly at first, but he relaxed and laced his fingers with my own.

He gave me a small smile before resting his head against my shoulder.

Finally, he felt comfortable enough to admit a little of what his heart wanted. I squeezed his hand gently and I heard him sigh. “What's wrong?” I asked.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing's wrong. I'm just...happy.” he answered.

“Ah, so that was a happy sigh, not a sad one?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I guess you could say so.”  
“Heh, alright. So, you wanna go to the mall?” I asked. “They've got a theater in there if you decide you wanna watch a movie. And, if not, we can walk around.”

“Sounds good to me, Mattie.”

***

We'd been walking around the mall for a few hours and I still wasn't sure if he was refraining from holding my hand because he was scared of the repercussions it could bring, or if he didn't  _want_ to. I got my answer when my hand accidentally brushed his, causing his hand to twitch just a bit.

“Sorry,” he mumbled sending me an apologetic look. “I want to, but I'm not ready to deal with that so soon.”

I nodded. I was alright with that, because I understood his logic. He would bear a bigger burden if it came out that we were together than I would after all. “Hey, Mels. You wanna go in Hot Topic?” I asked.

“Uh, sure. Just lead the way, Mattie,” he answered.

I grabbed his wrist gently and pulled him towards the store.

***

We came back out, with an Invader ZIM jacket for Mello. Well, more specifically, it had Gir on the front of a pull over jacket. Mello had instantly fallen in love with the Nightmare Before Christmas merchandise, but we'd both agreed that the Gir jacket was probably a safer bet.

“Ya wanna go to the theater now?” I asked.

“Sure,” he answered, smiling. “And thanks.”

“Don't mention it,” I said. “C'mon.” I pulled him gently by the wrist.

***

We got in line to get our snacks first.

“What do you want, Mello?” I asked.

“It doesn't matter just an order of popcorn and a drink will be fine,” he answered. “Whatever drink you're getting..”

“'Kay, and what do you wanna see?”

“Matt, seriously,” Mello sighed. “People are starting to stare. Just pick something, I don't care what it is.”

I rolled my eyes. He was going to regret letting me decide what we were going to watch. I finished buying our snacks and got our tickets. “C'mon,” I said and Mello followed me into the theater.

Once we'd settled down in our seats and gotten situated, he tapped my arm. “Mattie?”

“Hmm?”

“Uh, what movie are we seeing?”

“Thought you didn't care,” I answered.

“Well, yeah,” he mumbled. “But it would be nice to know, y'know?”

I sighed. “Repo! The Genetic Opera.”

“Erm... What's it about?” he asked.

“Mel, please just watch it.”

“Okay,” he said, only slightly grudgingly.

Twenty minutes in, he was clinging to my shirt with his face buried against my arm, trembling.

I sighed. “Mel...”

He looked up at me, the emotions battling in his eyes. Fear from the movie. Embarrassment that he ever was afraid in the first place. Relief that he wasn't alone watching it. He just stared at me for a few minutes, barely flinching as someone screamed on the screen. It was like he was in his own little world almost. Though, his eyes seemed to dart down to my lips every so often. Slowly, he leaned forward and before I knew exactly what he was planning, he pressed his lips to mine, hesitantly at first, but slowly growing in confidence.

I let my eyes drift shut and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him a little closer as I felt his arm slip around my neck, his fingers tangling softly in my hair.

Eventually, he pulled away, slight shock at what he'd just done in his eyes and a soft blush across his cheeks. He smiled and mumbled, “I think I love you, Mail.”

“As more than just a friend?” I asked as he buried his face into the crook of my neck.

“Uh-huh,” came the soft reply.

I smiled and rubbed his back gently. “Love you too,” I whispered in his ear before kissing his cheek gently.

***

About an hour later, we were sitting in the food court. Mello'd wanted chocolate when the movie was over and about the closest thing we could find was a chocolate milkshake. So, I'd gotten him an extra large, and a medium strawberry one for myself.

I felt him nudge my foot with his own under our table and looked up. “Hmm?”

“Thanks,” he said, smiling around his straw. “It's really good.”

I smiled myself as I set my hand on his knee and squeezed gently. “You're welcome.”

The smile grew a little bigger, now accompanied by the faintest of blushes and he went back to his milkshake.

On a whim, I patted his knee once to get his attention and couldn't help but chuckle when he took my hand without hesitation.

Yeah, this was definitely the best Halloween I'd had in my life.


End file.
